Finding Our Future
by TheHomemadeDarkmark
Summary: When Dumbledore receives a letter, everyone gets a shock. The present and future characters read the books.
1. Chapter 1

(BTW, this is just a few weeks into the school year, before the Goblet of Fire was picked from)

Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat in the library, studying.

"Excuse me? Harry Potter?" They looked around to see a first year girl. "Professor Dumbledore would like to see you three in his office."

"Alright, thanks," Harry said, standing.

The girl ran off, while the others gathered their books. "What do you think he wants?" Ron asked. Harry shrugged.

"Dunno. Guess we'll just have to find out when we get there."

They soon reached Dumbledore's office. The Headmaster was waiting outside for them.

"Good. You are here. Let us begin." And he led them inside. When they entered the three fourth years saw a large group of people. The office was quite crowded, actually.

"Now," Dumbledore began, "I expect you are all wondering why I brought you here."

"Well, yeah." Harry sighed, seeing Malfoy leaning against the wall.

Dumbledore just continued. "Well, I recieved this message early this morning, along with this package. The message instructed me to call all of you here, and we are to read the books contained." He waved his wand and several couches appeared, giving everyone a place to sit. "I will play the message now."

He pressed a button on a galleon that he pulled out of his pocket and a girl's voice filled the room.

_"Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

_This may sound strange, but we request that you summon everyone we mention here. It is of the upmost importance." _

_"Did you seriously just say 'upmost importance?'"_ a boy's voice said.

_"Shut up, James. Anyway, here's who you'll need:_

_Harry Potter_

_Ron Weasley_

_Hermione Granger_

_Remus Lupin_

_Sirius Black_

_Cedric Diggory_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Cho Chang_

_Severus Snape_

_Draco Malfoy_

_Viktor Krum_

_Ginny Weasley_

_Fred and George Weasley_

_Percy Weasley_

_Charlie Weasley_

_Bill Weasley_

_Fleur Delacour_

_Arthur Wealsey_

_Molly Weasley_

_Nymphadora Tonks_

_Luna Lovegood. Is there anyone I'm missing?"_

_"What about Neville?" _came the voice of another boy.

_"Oh, yeah, thanks, Scorp. And Neville Longbottom_

_Any others we have forgotten to mention will also arrive when you begin the books. When you open a book time around you will stop, and you will be transported to a new location until you complete the books. This may all sound a bit strange, but trust me, it'll make sense later. These books contain some things you'll really want. Information about the future."_

_"And a way for us to learn all of your deep dark secrets!"_

_"Shut up, James!" _Several voices said.

_"Love from,_

_James, Albus, Lily, Rose, Hugo, Teddy, Victoire, Dominique, Louis, Molly, Lucy, Fred, Roxanne, Lorcan, Lysander, Cora, Scorpius, and Ladon"_

_"PS: JAMES IS THE AWESOMEST PERSON IN THE ENTIRE WORLD!"_ the first boy said.

_"Sorry about that. It's just my idiot cousin. Just ignore him," _the first girl said.

"Was it neccessary to play that final bit, Professor?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore just smiled. "Well, are we going to read the first three or just cast a spell."

"What are the books anyway?" Hermione asked, obviously interested. Dumbledore opened the package.

"Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Askaban

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

Harry Potter and the Order of the Pheonix

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince," Snape flinched,

"and Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows."

Everyone's head turned to Harry, who groaned. Couldn't he just have a normal life that no one would butt into? "Could we just spare me the torture and use the spell? Besides, maybe this way we can avoid a lot of arguement and worry. And some people could actually reveal themselves without getting killed," he said, referring to his godfather, who was in dog form. He had actually been surprised when no one caught the fact that Sirius's name was on the list.

"Great idea, Harry. Everyone ready?" Dumbledore asked. Everyone nodded. "Well then..." He picked up the fourth book and opened it.


	2. Chapter 2

There was a tugging sensation, similar to that of a portkey. They arrived in a room filled with couches and armchairs. Everyone shook their heads, having been assulted with the information from the first three books. Sirius was no longer in dog form and no one attacked him.

Everyone stared at Harry, who blushed and ducked his head. He felt violated. They all took their seats.

"Who will read first?" Dumbledore asked, but any replies were cut off by a shuffling above them.

"You idiot! You transported us _above_ the room!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry! Excuse me if it's magic far beyond my year!"

"Guys! Stop arguing! We need to figure out how to get out of here! Rosie, can you transport us again?"

"I-I think so."

There was a flash and a group of people landed on the ground in a heap. A redheaded girl stood up, shoving a dark-haired boy off of her.

She looked at the group around her, stopping on certain people and looking at them with wide eyes.

"Um, hi," she said.

"What the bloody hell was that!" Ron exclaimed.

The girl rolled her eyes. "Nice to see you too, d- I mean, Ron." By now all of the others had composed themselves. "Well, we are the people who sent you the books and letter. We're from the future."

Everyone stared at her and the dark-haired boy she had shoved off sighed. "Way to break it lightly, Rosie!"

"Shut up, James!"

"Guys!" said another boy with dark hair. "How many fights do I have to break up between the two of you?"

"Sorry, Al," James said. Rose sighed and mumbled something that might have been an apology.

"Anyway," she said. "I guess we should introduce ourselves. Then you all should do the same, seeing as there's a few of you we've, um, never met." A silence fell over the room as they realized what she was implying. "Anyway," she continued, "as I'm sure you can tell, we are the children of some of you, and we will tell you as we introduce ourselves. To keep _some_ secrets until later, we will just introduce ourselves to the parent we most resemble, or our only parent, if only one is here. My name's Rose, daughter of Ron Weasley."

Ron blanched. There were a few wolf-whistles and Harry couldn't help but laugh at his friend's frightened expression.

"I'm Hugo, Rosie's brother," said a boy a few years younger than Rose, smiling at his father.

"James, son of Harry Potter," he said, grinning wildly, dark hair falling in his eyes.

Harry ducked his head. Now he knew how Ron had felt.

The other dark-haired boy stepped forward. "Albus. I'm James' brother." Dumbledore just smiled.

"Lily. My mum is Ginny Weasley," said a small redhead, about Hugo's age.

A boy who was a bit older than the rest gave a small wave. "Teddy, son of Nymphadora Tonks." They had decided to keep it to her so that they could avoid questions about him being a metamorphagus. Teddy met his mother's eyes, and he switched his own from the green he had adopted from his godfather to her dark brown. Her eyes welled up with tears.

A very pretty blonde girl stepped forward. "Victoire, my mother is Fleur Delacour."

This surprised no one. Victoire had inherited her mother's stunning looks, as had the girl that followed her.

"Dominique, Fleur Delacour is also my mother."

"Louis, son of Bill Weasley," said a redheaded boy, clearly the youngest of the lot. Bill blinked, but had no other reaction.

"I'm Molly Weasley and this is my sister, Lucy. Our dad is Percy Weasley," piped up a girl with pale red hair that was almost light enough to be blond. Her sister was nearly identical to her, though clearly younger.

Another redheaded boy stepped up. "I'm Fred, my father is George Weasley."

A girl with dark hair and skin stepped forward. "And I'm Fred's sister, Roxanne."

Fred laughed at his brother, who looked a bit dumbfounded, but was secretly kind of upset. None of the other kids looked even the slightest bit Weasley. Didn't he have any?

Two more boys, twins, stepped forward. "I'm Lorcan, and this is my brother, Lysander," one said. "Our mum is Luna Lovegood."

Luna smiled slightly to herself.

A pretty girl with dark hair and kind eyes spoke up. "I'm Cora, daughter of Neville Longbottom." Neville nearly fell out of his chair. How did that happen? And even if it did, how did any kid of his look like _that _from his round figure?

Another boy stepped forward. He had blonde hair and familiar pointed features. "And I'm Scorpius Malfoy, son of Draco Malfoy."

"And, I'm Ladon, his brother," said another.

Ron snorted. "Gee, Malfoy. How'd you get kids?"

Draco, Ladon, and Scorpius all turned red. Scorpius looked like he wanted to deck Ron, but Rose put a hand on his arm. "Scorpius, don't. Dad, be nice. I had to convince you that Scorpius was OK once, do I really have to do that again?"

Ron blinked, obviously startled from being called dad. Then he seemed to realize something. "Why'd you have to convince me that he-" Something clicked. "No! No, no, no!"

"Funny, his response was exactly the same in our time," James mused. Lily elbowed him, promptly shutting him up.

Albus was clearly searching for a subject change. "It's so weird seeing our parents the same age as us. Rose, Scorp, and I are all fourth years. James, Lucy, Cora, and the twins are in fifth. Dom is in sixth, Teddy and Victoire are both out of school, Hugo, Lily, Ladon, and Fred are second years. Roxie is in third year. Louis is a first year, and Molly is a seventh year."

"Wow," said George.

"I guess we should start our introductions. As you all probably know, I'm Harry Potter," Harry said, standing up.

"Ron Weasley."

"Hermione Granger," she said, smiling. She wondered if any of them were hers, or if she hadn't wound up with anyone. The thought was depressing.

"I'm Gred, and this is my brother, Forge," George said.

Fred II stepped up with wide eyes. "So, you're my Uncle Fred?"

"Well, yeah. Who else would I be?" Fred asked, but he began to feel uneasy. George had named a kid after him, a kid who seemed to never have met him, and he didn't seem to have any kids of his own...

"Fred," Roxanne warned. "Let them find out how things turn out in their own time." He nodded and stepped back.

"I'm Bill Weasley."

"And I am Fleur Delacour," she said, flashing a smile at her daughters.

"Remus Lupin." Teddy stared at him subtly, not drawing attention to it.

"I'm Sirius Black." James grinned at him. Sirius paused, looking in his eyes. Like Harry, James was a spitting image of his namesake. He even managed to get hazel eyes.. He couldn't help but feel like he was staring at his old friend.

"You know," James said, "my middle name's Sirius." Sirius grinned hugely.

"I'm Minerva McGonagall."

"Hey! Professor! Just for future reference, please forgive me. Although I don't get what I did wrong, your hair looked great when it was purple!" James said, causing laughter throughout the room.

"Nymphadora Tonks," Tonks threw in, clearly trying to save James from interrogation. Teddy smiled at her.

"Cedric Diggory."

"Draco Malfoy," he glared at the Weasley girl, standing so close to his future son.

"Ginny Weasley."

"Cho Chang."

"My name is Viktor Krum." Ron was starstruck, seeing his idol in front of him.

"Percy Weasley."

"Charlie Weasley."

"Severus Snape," he said in a monotone voice, but he was staring at Albus. The boy had kept glancing at him, which was unnerving. Now two sets of Lily's eyes were in the room.

"Arthur Weasley."

"Molly Weasley."

"Luna Lovegood."

"And, I'm Neville Longbottom."

"Hi, Professor!" Hugo blurted out, earning a smack on the head from his sister. He blushed. Neville blinked.

"And, finally, I am Albus Dumbledore. Now, who shall read first?"


	3. Chapter 3

"I will!" Hermione and Rose both thrust their hands in the air at the same time.

"Great! Another one!" George groaned, earning some laughs.

"Go ahead," Rose said.

Hermione blushed a little, but took the book. "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire."

"That must be this year," Harry said. Everyone nodded.

"Chapter One: The Riddle House.

_The villagers of Little Hangleton still called it "the Riddle_  
_House," even though it had been many years since the Riddle_  
_family had lived there. It stood on a hill overlooking the village,_  
_some of its windows boarded, tiles missing from its roof, and ivy_  
_spreading unchecked over its face. Once a fine-looking manor, and_  
_easily the largest and grandest building for miles around, the Riddle_  
_House was now damp, derelict, and unoccupied._

_The Little Hangletons all agreed that the old house was "creepy."_  
_Half a century ago, something strange and horrible had happened_  
_there, something that the older inhabitants of the village still liked_  
_to discuss when topics for gossip were scarce. The story had been_  
_picked over so many times, and had been embroidered in so many_  
_places, that nobody was quite sure what the truth was anymore._  
_Every version of the tale, however, started in the same place: Fifty_  
_years before, at daybreak on a fine summer's morning, when the_

_Riddle House had still been well kept and impressive, a maid had_  
_entered the drawing room to find all three Riddles dead._

"That would suck. Walking in to do the cleaning and you find them all dead."

"That isn't funny, George!" Molly snapped.

_The maid had run screaming down the hill into the village and_  
_roused as many people as she could._

_"Lying there with their eyes wide open! Cold as ice! Still in their_  
_dinner things!"_

_The police were summoned, and the whole of Little Hangleton_  
_had seethed with shocked curiosity and ill-disguised excitement._  
_Nobody wasted their breath pretending to feel very sad about the_  
_Riddles, for they had been most unpopular. Elderly Mr. and Mrs._  
_Riddle had been rich, snobbish, and rude, and their grown-up son,_  
_Tom, had been, if anything, worse. All the villagers cared about was_  
_the identity of their murderer — for plainly, three apparently_  
_healthy people did not all drop dead of natural causes on the same_  
_night._

"Or so they think," Sirius said ominously.

_The Hanged Man, the village pub, did a roaring trade that_  
_night; the whole village seemed to have turned out to discuss the_  
_murders._

"Yes, people died so let's go drink!" Rose said sarcastically.

_They were rewarded for leaving their firesides when the_  
_Riddles' cook arrived dramatically in their midst and announced_  
_to the suddenly silent pub that a man called Frank Bryce had just_  
_been arrested._

_"Frank!" cried several people. "Never!"_

_Frank Bryce was the Riddles' gardener. He lived alone in a rundown_  
_cottage on the grounds of the Riddle House. Frank had_  
_come back from the war with a very stiff leg and a great dislike of_  
_crowds and loud noises, and had been working for the Riddles ever_  
_since._

_There was a rush to buy the cook drinks and hear more details._  
_"Always thought he was odd," she told the eagerly listening villagers, after her fourth sherry. "Unfriendly, like. I'm sure if I've offered  
him a cuppa once, I've offered it a hundred times. Never  
wanted to mix, he didn't."_

"Maybe he just didn't want to talk to you?"

_"Ah, now," said a woman at the bar, "he had a hard war, Frank._  
_He likes the quiet life. That's no reason to —"_

_"Who else had a key to the back door, then?" barked the cook._  
_"There's been a spare key hanging in the gardener's cottage far back_  
_as I can remember! Nobody forced the door last night! No broken_  
_windows! All Frank had to do was creep up to the big house while_  
_we was all sleeping. . . ."_

_The villagers exchanged dark looks._

_"I always thought he had a nasty look about him, right enough,"_  
_grunted a man at the bar._

_"War turned him funny, if you ask me," said the landlord._

_"Told you I wouldn't like to get on the wrong side of Frank,_  
_didn't I, Dot?" said an excited woman in the corner._

_"Horrible temper," said Dot, nodding fervently. "I remember,_  
_when he was a kid . . ."_

_By the following morning, hardly anyone in Little Hangleton_  
_doubted that Frank Bryce had killed the Riddles._

_But over in the neighboring town of Great Hangleton,_

"How many Hangleton's are there?" Fred asked. Everyone shrugged.

_in the dark and dingy police station, Frank was stubbornly repeating,_  
_again and again, that he was innocent, and that the only person he_  
_had seen near the house on the day of the Riddles' deaths had been_  
_a teenage boy, a stranger, dark-haired and pale. Nobody else in the_  
_village had seen any such boy, and the police were quite sure that_  
_Frank had invented him._

Dumbledore sighed, knowing who was being referred to here. Professor McGonagall got a sad look, connecting the name Riddle with the description of the boy Frank had mentioned.

_Then, just when things were looking very serious for Frank, the_  
_report on the Riddles' bodies came back and changed everything._

_The police had never read an odder report. A team of doctors_  
_had examined the bodies and had concluded that none of the Riddles_  
_had been poisoned, stabbed, shot, strangled, suffocated, or (as_  
_far as they could tell) harmed at all. In fact (the report continued,_  
_in a tone of unmistakable bewilderment), the Riddles all appeared_  
_to be in perfect health — apart from the fact that they were all_  
_dead._

"Yep," Fred said. "They're dead, but they're perfectly healthy."

George nodded. "That makes perfect sense."

_The doctors did note (as though determined to find something_  
_wrong with the bodies) that each of the Riddles had a look of_  
_terror upon his or her face — but as the frustrated police said,_  
_whoever heard of three people being frightened to death?_

_As there was no proof that the Riddles had been murdered at all,_  
_the police were forced to let Frank go. The Riddles were buried in_  
_the Little Hangleton churchyard, and their graves remained objects_  
_of curiosity for a while. To everyone's surprise, and amid a cloud of_  
_suspicion, Frank Bryce returned to his cottage on the grounds of the_  
_Riddle House._

"It is very suspicious for a man to return to his home," Sirius said with a straight poker face.(AN: Sirius was serious XD just saying)

_" 'S far as I'm concerned, he killed them, and I don't care what_  
_the police say," said Dot in the Hanged Man. "And if he had any_  
_decency, he'd leave here, knowing as how we knows he did it."_

"Poor guy," said Ginny simpathetically.

_But Frank did not leave. He stayed to tend the garden for the_  
_next family who lived in the Riddle House, and then the next —_  
_for neither family stayed long. Perhaps it was partly because of_  
_Frank that the new owners said there was a nasty feeling about the_  
_place, which, in the absence of inhabitants, started to fall into_  
_disrepair._

_The wealthy man who owned the Riddle House these days neither_  
_lived there nor put it to any use; they said in the village that he kept_  
_it for "tax reasons," though nobody was very clear what these might be._

_The wealthy owner continued to pay Frank to do the gardening,_  
_however. Frank was nearing his seventy-seventh birthday now,_  
_very deaf, his bad leg stiffer than ever, but could be seen pottering_  
_around the flower beds in fine weather, even though the weeds were_  
_starting to creep up on him, try as he might to suppress them._

"Why doesn't he just retire?" Lily asked curiously.

"I guess he just really liked his job," Albus said.

_Weeds were not the only things Frank had to contend with either._  
_Boys from the village made a habit of throwing stones_  
_through the windows of the Riddle House. They rode their bicycles_  
_over the lawns Frank worked so hard to keep smooth._

"Gits," Ron mumbled.

_Once or twice, they broke into the old house for a dare. They knew that old_  
_Frank's devotion to the house and grounds amounted almost to an_  
_obsession, and it amused them to see him limping across the garden,_  
_brandishing his stick and yelling croakily at them. Frank, for_  
_his part, believed the boys tormented him because they, like their_  
_parents and grandparents, thought him a murderer. So when Frank_  
_awoke one night in August and saw something very odd up at the_  
_old house, he merely assumed that the boys had gone one step further_  
_in their attempts to punish him._

"I'm gonna guess that that wasn't the case," Charlie said.

_It was Frank's bad leg that woke him; it was paining him worse_  
_than ever in his old age. He got up and limped downstairs into the_  
_kitchen with the idea of refilling his hot-water bottle to ease the_  
_stiffness in his knee. Standing at the sink, filling the kettle, he_  
_looked up at the Riddle House and saw lights glimmering in its upper_  
_windows. Frank knew at once what was going on. The boys_  
_had broken into the house again, and judging by the flickering_  
_quality of the light, they had started a fire._

_Frank had no telephone, and in any case, he had deeply mistrusted_  
_the police ever since they had taken him in for questioning_  
_about the Riddles' deaths. He put down the kettle at once, hurried_

_back upstairs as fast as his bad leg would allow, and was soon back_  
_in his kitchen, fully dressed and removing a rusty old key from its_  
_hook by the door. He picked up his walking stick, which was_  
_propped against the wall, and set off into the night._

_The front door of the Riddle House bore no sign of being_  
_forced, nor did any of the windows. Frank limped around to the_  
_back of the house until he reached a door almost completely hidden_  
_by ivy, took out the old key, put it into the lock, and opened_  
_the door noiselessly._

"Wouldn't an old house at least creak?"

"Does it matter, James?"

"Shut up, Rose."

"You shut up!"

"You-"

"Guys!"

"Sorry, Al," the two said, simultaneously

_He let himself into the cavernous kitchen. Frank had not entered_  
_it for many years; nevertheless, although it was very dark, he_  
_remembered where the door into the hall was, and he groped his_  
_way toward it, his nostrils full of the smell of decay, ears pricked for_  
_any sound of footsteps or voices from overhead. He reached the_  
_hall, which was a little lighter owing to the large mullioned windows_  
_on either side of the front door, and started to climb the_  
_stairs, blessing the dust that lay thick upon the stone, because it_  
_muffled the sound of his feet and stick._

_On the landing, Frank turned right, and saw at once where the_  
_intruders were: At the very end of the passage a door stood ajar, and_  
_a flickering light shone through the gap, casting a long sliver of_  
_gold across the black floor. Frank edged closer and closer, grasping_  
_his walking stick firmly._

"Uh-oh. You know someone's going down when the walking stick's grabbed firmly!" Teddy said. Victoire, who sat next to him, giggled. He smiled at her.

"Get a room!" James said, causing them both to glare at him and several people to laugh.

_Several feet from the entrance, he was able_  
_to see a narrow slice of the room beyond._

_The fire, he now saw, had been lit in the grate. This surprised_  
_him. Then he stopped moving and listened intently, for a man's_  
_voice spoke within the room; it sounded timid and fearful._

Harry narrowed his eyes, knowing who this was.

_"There is a little more in the bottle, My Lord, if you are still_  
_hungry."_

_"Later," said a second voice. This too belonged to a man — but_  
_it was strangely high-pitched, and cold as a sudden blast of icy_  
_wind. Something about that voice made the sparse hairs on the_  
_back of Frank's neck stand up._

Several people shuddered.

_"Move me closer to the fire,_  
_Wormtail."_

Many fist clenched when Wormtail's name was said. No one could believe that he would betray the Potters. Sirius growled.

_Frank turned his right ear toward the door, the better to hear._  
_There came the clink of a bottle being put down upon some hard_  
_surface, and then the dull scraping noise of a heavy chair being_  
_dragged across the floor. Frank caught a glimpse of a small man, his_  
_back to the door, pushing the chair into place. He was wearing a_  
_long black cloak, and there was a bald patch at the back of his head._  
_Then he went out of sight again._

"Oh, Frank, get out of there!" Lily said, and everyone was too fearful to remind her that this had already happned, and she was talking to a book. Harry looked at his hands, wishing his future kids didn't have to hear this, even if one was older and one was his age. He saw Lily's big innocent brown eyes fill with fear for the poor muggle. He felt bad for Ginny's daughter. She was leaning against his legs, so they must be close in the future.

_"Where is Nagini?" said the cold voice._

_"I — I don't know, My Lord," said the first voice nervously. "She_  
_set out to explore the house, I think. . . ."_

_"You will milk her before we retire, Wormtail," said the second_  
_voice. "I will need feeding in the night. The journey has tired me_  
_greatly."_

"Feeding?" said Fred increduluosly. "Seriously?" He looked around and fell silent as no one responded to his attempt to lift the mood.

_Brow furrowed, Frank inclined his good ear still closer to the_  
_door, listening very hard. There was a pause, and then the man_  
_called Wormtail spoke again._

_"My Lord, may I ask how long we are going to stay here?"_

_"A week," said the cold voice. "Perhaps longer. The place is moderately_  
_comfortable, and the plan cannot proceed yet. It would be_  
_foolish to act before the Quidditch World Cup is over."_

Fleur's eyebrows scrunched. "What eez deez 'plan?'"

No one knew.

_Frank inserted a gnarled finger into his ear and rotated it. Owing,_  
_no doubt, to a buildup of earwax,_

"Eww!" several girls muttered. Cho gave a light shudder.

_he had heard the word_  
_"Quidditch," which was not a word at all._

"Yes it is!" majority of the room yelled. Hermione glared and they shut their mouths.

_"The — the Quidditch World Cup, My Lord?"_ _said Wormtail._

_(Frank dug his finger still more vigorously into his ear.) "Forgive_  
_me, but — I do not understand — why should we wait until the_  
_World Cup is over?"_

_"Because, fool, at this very moment wizards are pouring into the_  
_country from all over the world, and every meddler from the Ministry_  
_of Magic will be on duty, on the watch for signs of unusual activity,_  
_checking and double-checking identities. They will be_  
_obsessed with security, lest the Muggles notice anything. So we_  
_wait."_

_Frank stopped trying to clear out his ear. He had distinctly heard_  
_the words "Ministry of Magic," "wizards," and "Muggles." Plainly,_  
_each of these expressions meant something secret, and Frank could_  
_think of only two sorts of people who would speak in code: spies_  
_and criminals._

There were some snorts at the thought of Voldemort as a spy, in the cliche muggle way, but they quickly sobered up.

_Frank tightened his hold on his walking stick once_  
_more, and listened more closely still._

_"Your Lordship is still determined, then?" Wormtail said quietly._

_"Certainly I am determined, Wormtail." There was a note of_  
_menace in the cold voice now._

_A slight pause followed — and then Wormtail spoke, the words_  
_tumbling from him in a rush, as though he was forcing himself to_  
_say this before he lost his nerve._

_"It could be done without Harry Potter, My Lord."_

__All eyes flickered to Harry then back to Hermione.

_Another pause, more protracted, and then —_

_"Without Harry Potter?" breathed the second voice softly. "I_  
_see . . ."_

_"My Lord, I do not say this out of concern for the boy!" said_  
_Wormtail, his voice rising squeakily. "The boy is nothing to me,_  
_nothing at all! It is merely that if we were to use another witch or_

_wizard — any wizard — the thing could be done so much more_  
_quickly! If you allowed me to leave you for a short while — you_  
_know that I can disguise myself most effectively — I could be back_  
_here in as little as two days with a suitable person —"_

_"I could use another wizard," said the cold voice softly, "that is_  
_true. . . ."_

_"My Lord, it makes sense," said Wormtail, sounding thoroughly_  
_relieved now. "Laying hands on Harry Potter would be so difficult,_  
_he is so well protected —"_

_"And so you volunteer to go and fetch me a substitute? I wonder_  
_. . . perhaps the task of nursing me has become wearisome for_  
_you, Wormtail? Could this suggestion of abandoning the plan be_  
_nothing more than an attempt to desert me?"_

_"My Lord! I — I have no wish to leave you, none at all —"_

_"Do not lie to me!" hissed the second voice. "I can always tell,_  
_Wormtail! You are regretting that you ever returned to me. I revolt_  
_you. I see you flinch when you look at me, feel you shudder when_  
_you touch me. . . ."_

_"No! My devotion to Your Lordship —"_

_"Your devotion is nothing more than cowardice. You would not_  
_be here if you had anywhere else to go. How am I to survive without_  
_you, when I need feeding every few hours? Who is to milk_  
_Nagini?"_

_"But you seem so much stronger, My Lord —"_

_"Liar," breathed the second voice. "I am no stronger, and a few_  
_days alone would be enough to rob me of the little health I have regained_  
_under your clumsy care. Silence!"_

_Wormtail, who had been sputtering incoherently, fell silent at_

_once._ _For a few seconds, Frank could hear nothing but the fire_  
_crackling. Then the second man spoke once more, in a whisper_  
_that was almost a hiss._

_"I have my reasons for using the boy, as I have already explained_  
_to you, and I will use no other. I have waited thirteen years. A few_  
_more months will make no difference. As for the protection surrounding_  
_the boy, I believe my plan will be effective. All that is_  
_needed is a little courage from you, Wormtail — courage you will_  
_find, unless you wish to feel the full extent of Lord Voldemort's_  
_wrath —"_

_"My Lord, I must speak!" said Wormtail, panic in his voice now._

_"All through our journey I have gone over the plan in my head —_  
_My Lord, Bertha Jorkins's disappearance will not go unnoticed for_  
_long, and if we proceed, if I murder —"_

"Bertha!" Arthur gasped. "I knew her disappearance was fishy!"

_"If?" whispered the second voice. "If ? If you follow the plan,_  
_Wormtail, the Ministry need never know that anyone else has died._  
_You will do it quietly and without fuss; I only wish that I could do_  
_it myself, but in my present condition . . . Come, Wormtail, one_  
_more death and our path to Harry Potter is clear. I am not asking_  
_you to do it alone. By that time, my faithful servant will have rejoined_  
_us —"_

_"I am a faithful servant," said Wormtail, the merest trace of sullenness_  
_in his voice._

Remus snorted. "Yeah, right. Bloody coward."

_"Wormtail, I need somebody with brains, somebody whose loyalty_  
_has never wavered, and you, unfortunately, fulfill neither_  
_requirement."_

Sirius let out a small, humorless laugh.

_"I found you," said Wormtail, and there was definitely a sulky_  
_edge to his voice now. "I was the one who found you. I brought_  
_you Bertha Jorkins."_

_"That is true," said the second man, sounding amused. "A stroke_  
_of brilliance I would not have thought possible from you, Wormtail_  
_— though, if truth be told, you were not aware how useful she_  
_would be when you caught her, were you?"_

_"I — I thought she might be useful, My Lord —"_

_"Liar," said the second voice again, the cruel amusement more_  
_pronounced than ever. "However, I do not deny that her information_  
_was invaluable. Without it, I could never have formed our_  
_plan, and for that, you will have your reward, Wormtail. I will allow_  
_you to perform an essential task for me, one that many of my_  
_followers would give their right hands to perform. . . ."_

"Why not their left? Why do they have to give up their right? I mean, is the left hand inferior to the right? My left hand is insulted now and I-"

"Shut up, James!"

"Sorry, Rosie."

_"R-really, My Lord? What — ?" Wormtail sounded terrified_  
_again._

_"Ah, Wormtail, you don't want me to spoil the surprise? Your_  
_part will come at the very end . . . but I promise you, you will have_  
_the honor of being just as useful as Bertha Jorkins."_

_"You . . . you . . ." Wormtail's voice suddenly sounded hoarse, as_  
_though his mouth had gone very dry. "You . . . are going . . . to kill_  
_me too?"_

"Please say yes!" Sirius begged.

_"Wormtail, Wormtail," said the cold voice silkily, "why would I_  
_kill you?_

"Damn."

_I killed Bertha because I had to. She was fit for nothing after_  
_my questioning, quite useless. In any case, awkward questions_  
_would have been asked if she had gone back to the Ministry with_  
_the news that she had met you on her holidays. Wizards who are_  
_supposed to be dead would do well not to run into Ministry of_  
_Magic witches at wayside inns. . . ."_

_Wormtail muttered something so quietly that Frank could not_  
_hear it, but it made the second man laugh — an entirely mirthless_  
_laugh, cold as his speech._

_"We could have modified her memory? But Memory Charms can_  
_be broken by a powerful wizard, as I proved when I questioned her._  
_It would be an insult to her memory not to use the information I extracted_  
_from her, Wormtail."_

_Out in the corridor, Frank suddenly became aware that the hand_  
_gripping his walking stick was slippery with sweat. The man with_  
_the cold voice had killed a woman. He was talking about it without_  
_any kind of remorse — with amusement. He was dangerous — a_  
_madman. And he was planning more murders — this boy, Harry_  
_Potter, whoever he was — was in danger —_

_Frank knew what he must do. Now, if ever, was the time to go to_  
_the police. He would creep out of the house and head straight for_  
_the telephone box in the village . . . but the cold voice was speaking_  
_again, and Frank remained where he was, frozen to the spot, listening_  
_with all his might._

_"One more murder . . . my faithful servant at Hogwarts . . ._  
_Harry Potter is as good as mine, Wormtail. It is decided. There will_  
_be no more argument. But quiet . . . I think I hear Nagini. . . ."_

_And the second man's voice changed. He started making noises_  
_such as Frank had never heard before; he was hissing and spitting_  
_without drawing breath. Frank thought he must be having some_  
_sort of fit or seizure._

_And then Frank heard movement behind him in the dark passageway._  
_He turned to look, and found himself paralyzed with_  
_fright._

_Something was slithering toward him along the dark corridor_  
_floor, and as it drew nearer to the sliver of firelight, he realized with_  
_a thrill of terror that it was a gigantic snake, at least twelve feet_  
_long. Horrified, transfixed, Frank stared as its undulating body cut_

_a wide, curving track through the thick dust on the floor, coming_  
_closer and closer — What was he to do? The only means of escape_  
_was into the room where two men sat plotting murder, yet if he_  
_stayed where he was the snake would surely kill him —_

Harry felt Lily shaking where she sat on the floor by his legs. He wanted to comfort her, but wasn't exactly sure how. What do you say to a frightened girl you don't know from the future who's only two years younger than you?

_But before he had made his decision, the snake was level with_  
_him, and then, incredibly, miraculously, it was passing; it was following_  
_the spitting, hissing noises made by the cold voice beyond_  
_the door, and in seconds, the tip of its diamond-patterned tail had_  
_vanished through the gap._

_There was sweat on Frank's forehead now, and the hand on the_  
_walking stick was trembling. Inside the room, the cold voice was_  
_continuing to hiss, and Frank was visited by a strange idea, an impossible_  
_idea. . . . This man could talk to snakes._

_Frank didn't understand what was going on. He wanted more_  
_than anything to be back in his bed with his hot-water bottle. The_  
_problem was that his legs didn't seem to want to move. As he stood_  
_there shaking and trying to master himself, the cold voice switched_  
_abruptly to English again._

_"Nagini has interesting news, Wormtail," it said._

_"In-indeed, My Lord?" said Wormtail._

_"Indeed, yes," said the voice. "According to Nagini, there is an_  
_old Muggle standing right outside this room, listening to every_  
_word we say."_

_Frank didn't have a chance to hide himself. There were footsteps,_  
_and then the door of the room was flung wide open._

_A short, balding man with graying hair, a pointed nose, and_  
_small, watery eyes stood before Frank, a mixture of fear and alarm_  
_in his face._

_"Invite him inside, Wormtail. Where are your manners?"_

Lily turned and buried her face in Harry's legs. He felt very uncomfortable, and Ron smirked until he saw Rose across the room with Scorpius's arm around her, clutching his other hand.

_The cold voice was coming from the ancient armchair before the_  
_fire, but Frank couldn't see the speaker. The snake, on the other_  
_hand, was curled up on the rotting hearth rug, like some horrible_  
_travesty of a pet dog._

_Wormtail beckoned Frank into the room. Though still deeply_  
_shaken, Frank took a firmer grip upon his walking stick and limped_  
_over the threshold._

_The fire was the only source of light in the room; it cast long,_  
_spidery shadows upon the walls. Frank stared at the back of the_  
_armchair; the man inside it seemed to be even smaller than his servant,_  
_for Frank couldn't even see the back of his head._

_"You heard everything, Muggle?" said the cold voice._

_"What's that you're calling me?" said Frank defiantly, for now_  
_that he was inside the room, now that the time had come for some_  
_sort of action, he felt braver; it had always been so in the war._

"He is very brave," McGonagall said.

_"I am calling you a Muggle," said the voice coolly. "It means that_  
_you are not a wizard."_

_"I don't know what you mean by wizard," said Frank, his voice_  
_growing steadier. "All I know is I've heard enough to interest the_  
_police tonight, I have. You've done murder and you're planning_  
_more! And I'll tell you this too," he added, on a sudden inspiration,_  
_"my wife knows I'm up here, and if I don't come back —"_

"That's a good story, actually," Charlie put in, impressed.

_"You have no wife," said the cold voice, very quietly. "Nobody_  
_knows you are here. You told nobody that you were coming. Do_  
_not lie to Lord Voldemort,_

The past Weasleys, Cho, Cedric, Fleur, Neville, and Krum all flinched.

_Muggle, for he knows . . . he always_  
_knows. . . ."_

_"Is that right?" said Frank roughly. "Lord, is it? Well, I don't_  
_think much of your manners, My Lord. Turn 'round and face me_  
_like a man, why don't you?"_

"He is brave," Molly said. "But I fear that it will be a bad thing at this time."

_"But I am not a man, Muggle," said the cold voice, barely audible_  
_now over the crackling of the flames. "I am much, much more_  
_than a man. However . . . why not? I will face you. . . . Wormtail,_  
_come turn my chair around."_

_The servant gave a whimper._

_"You heard me, Wormtail."_

_Slowly, with his face screwed up, as though he would rather have_  
_done anything than approach his master and the hearth rug where_  
_the snake lay, the small man walked forward and began to turn the_  
_chair. The snake lifted its ugly triangular head and hissed slightly as_  
_the legs of the chair snagged on its rug._

_And then the chair was facing Frank, and he saw what was sitting_  
_in it. His walking stick fell to the floor with a clatter. He_  
_opened his mouth and let out a scream. He was screaming so_  
_loudly that he never heard the words the thing in the chair spoke as_  
_it raised a wand. There was a flash of green light, a rushing sound,_  
_and Frank Bryce crumpled. He was dead before he hit the floor._

_Two hundred miles away, the boy called Harry Potter woke with_  
_a start._

Several people sobbed. Harry felt Lily's tears soaking his left leg. He hesitantly reached down and kind of patted her head.

Hermione looked up with watery eyes. "Who's next?"


	4. Chapter 4

"I will," said Albus, reaching for the book. She handed it over.

"Chapter Two," he began. "The Scar.

_Harry lay flat on his back, breathing hard as though he had_  
_been running. He had awoken from a vivid dream with_  
_his hands pressed over his face. The old scar on his forehead, which_  
_was shaped like a bolt of lightning, was burning beneath his fingers_  
_as though someone had just pressed a white-hot wire to his skin._  
_He sat up, one hand still on his scar, the other reaching out in_  
_the darkness for his glasses, which were on the bedside table. He_  
_put them on and his bedroom came into clearer focus, lit by a faint,_  
_misty orange light that was filtering through the curtains from the_  
_street lamp outside the window._

_Harry ran his fingers over the scar again. It was still painful. He_  
_turned on the lamp beside him, scrambled out of bed, crossed the_  
_room, opened his wardrobe, and peered into the mirror on the inside_  
_of the door. A skinny boy of fourteen looked back at him, his_  
_bright green eyes puzzled under his untidy black hair. He examined_

_the lightning-bolt scar of his reflection more closely. It looked_  
_normal, but it was still stinging._

_Harry tried to recall what he had been dreaming about before he_  
_had awoken. It had seemed so real. . . . There had been two people_  
_he knew and one he didn't. . . . He concentrated hard, frowning,_  
_trying to remember. . . ._

_The dim picture of a darkened room came to him. . . . There_  
_had been a snake on a hearth rug . . . a small man called Peter,_  
_nicknamed Wormtail . . . and a cold, high voice . . . the voice of_  
_Lord Voldemort. Harry felt as though an ice cube had slipped_  
_down into his stomach at the very thought. . . ._

_He closed his eyes tightly and tried to remember what Voldemort_  
_had looked like, but it was impossible. . . . All Harry knew_  
_was that at the moment when Voldemort's chair had swung_  
_around, and he, Harry, had seen what was sitting in it, he had felt_  
_a spasm of horror, which had awoken him . . . or had that been the_  
_pain in his scar?_

_And who had the old man been? For there had definitely been an_  
_old man; Harry had watched him fall to the ground. It was all becoming_  
_confused. Harry put his face into his hands, blocking out_  
_his bedroom, trying to hold on to the picture of that dimly lit_  
_room, but it was like trying to keep water in his cupped hands; the_  
_details were now trickling away as fast as he tried to hold on to_  
_them. . . . Voldemort and Wormtail had been talking about someone_  
_they had killed, though Harry could not remember the_  
_name . . . and they had been plotting to kill someone else . . . him!_

_Harry took his face out of his hands, opened his eyes, and stared_  
_around his bedroom as though expecting to see something unusual_

_there. As it happened, there were an extraordinary number of unusual_  
_things in this room._

James listened closely to the description of his father's old room, hoping to find a reason to not have to clean his room.

_A large wooden trunk stood open at the_  
_foot of his bed, revealing a cauldron, broomstick, black robes, and_  
_assorted spellbooks. Rolls of parchment littered that part of his_  
_desk that was not taken up by the large, empty cage in which his_  
_snowy owl, Hedwig, usually perched. On the floor beside his bed a_  
_book lay open; Harry had been reading it before he fell asleep last_  
_night. The pictures in this book were all moving. Men in bright orange_  
_robes were zooming in and out of sight on broomsticks,_  
_throwing a red ball to one another._

_Harry walked over to the book, picked it up, and watched one_  
_of the wizards score a spectacular goal by putting the ball through_  
_a fifty-foot-high hoop. Then he snapped the book shut. Even_  
_Quidditch — in Harry's opinion, the best sport in the world —_

"Yes!" several people shouted.

_couldn't distract him at the moment. He placed Flying with the_  
_Cannons on his bedside table, crossed to the window, and drew_  
_back the curtains to survey the street below._

_Privet Drive looked exactly as a respectable suburban street_  
_would be expected to look in the early hours of Saturday morning._  
_All the curtains were closed. As far as Harry could see through the_  
_darkness, there wasn't a living creature in sight, not even a cat._

_And yet . . . and yet . . . Harry went restlessly back to the bed_  
_and sat down on it, running a finger over his scar again. It wasn't_  
_the pain that bothered him; Harry was no stranger to pain and injury._  
_He had lost all the bones from his right arm once and had_  
_them painfully regrown in a night. The same arm had been pierced_  
_by a venomous foot-long fang not long afterward. Only last year_  
_Harry had fallen fifty feet from an airborne broomstick. He was_  
_used to bizarre accidents and injuries; they were unavoidable if you_

_attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and had a_  
_knack for attracting a lot of trouble._

"That you definitely have," Hermione said, smiling at him.

_No, the thing that was bothering Harry was that the last time his_  
_scar had hurt him, it had been because Voldemort had been close_  
_by. . . . But Voldemort couldn't be here, now. . . . The idea of_  
_Voldemort lurking in Privet Drive was absurd, impossible. . . ._  
_Harry listened closely to the silence around him. Was he half expecting_  
_to hear the creak of a stair or the swish of a cloak? And_  
_then he jumped slightly as he heard his cousin Dudley give a_  
_tremendous grunting snore from the next room._

Everyone laughed, partially at Harry's paranoia, partially at his stupid cousin.

_Harry shook himself mentally; he was being stupid. There was_  
_no one in the house with him except Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia,_  
_and Dudley, and they were plainly still asleep, their dreams untroubled_  
_and painless._

_Asleep was the way Harry liked the Dursleys best; it wasn't as_  
_though they were ever any help to him awake. Uncle Vernon, Aunt_  
_Petunia, and Dudley were Harry's only living relatives. They were_  
_Muggles who hated and despised magic in any form, which meant_  
_that Harry was about as welcome in their house as dry rot. They_  
_had explained away Harry's long absences at Hogwarts over the last_  
_three years by telling everyone that he went to St. Brutus's Secure_  
_Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. They knew perfectly well_  
_that, as an underage wizard, Harry wasn't allowed to use magic outside_  
_Hogwarts, but they were still apt to blame him for anything_  
_that went wrong about the house. Harry had never been able to_  
_confide in them or tell them anything about his life in the wizarding_  
_world. The very idea of going to them when they awoke, and_  
_telling them about his scar hurting him, and about his worries_  
_about Voldemort, was laughable._

_And yet it was because of Voldemort that Harry had come to live_  
_with the Dursleys in the first place. If it hadn't been for Voldemort,_  
_Harry would not have had the lightning scar on his forehead. If it_  
_hadn't been for Voldemort, Harry would still have had parents. . . ._  
_Harry had been a year old the night that Voldemort — the most_  
_powerful Dark wizard for a century, a wizard who had been gaining_  
_power steadily for eleven years — arrived at his house and_  
_killed his father and mother. Voldemort had then turned his wand_  
_on Harry; he had performed the curse that had disposed of many_  
_full-grown witches and wizards in his steady rise to power — and,_  
_incredibly, it had not worked. Instead of killing the small boy, the_  
_curse had rebounded upon Voldemort. Harry had survived with_  
_nothing but a lightning-shaped cut on his forehead, and Voldemort_  
_had been reduced to something barely alive. His powers gone,_  
_his life almost extinguished, Voldemort had fled; the terror in_  
_which the secret community of witches and wizards had lived for_  
_so long had lifted, Voldemort's followers had disbanded, and Harry_  
_Potter had become famous._

_It had been enough of a shock for Harry to discover, on his_  
_eleventh birthday, that he was a wizard; it had been even more disconcerting_  
_to find out that everyone in the hidden wizarding world_  
_knew his name. Harry had arrived at Hogwarts to find that heads_  
_turned and whispers followed him wherever he went. But he was_  
_used to it now: At the end of this summer, he would be starting his_  
_fourth year at Hogwarts, and Harry was already counting the days_  
_until he would be back at the castle again._

Everyone from the future listened intently, interested in how their father/uncle/godfather/family friend/whatever Scorpius and Ladon would call him had done.

_But there was still a fortnight to go before he went back to_  
_school. He looked hopelessly around his room again, and his eye_

_paused on the birthday cards his two best friends had sent him at_  
_the end of July. What would they say if Harry wrote to them and_  
_told them about his scar hurting?_

_At once, Hermione Granger's voice seemed to fill his head, shrill_  
_and panicky._

"Shrill and panicky?" Hermione said, clearly offended.

"You do actually sound that way when you're nervous, Aunt Hermione," Lysander said with a small laugh. She looked bewildered.

_"Your scar hurt? Harry, that's really serious. . . . Write to Professor_  
_Dumbledore! And I'll go and check Common Magical Ailments and_  
_Afflictions. . . . Maybe there's something in there about curse scars. . . ."_  
_Yes, that would be Hermione's advice: Go straight to the headmaster_  
_of Hogwarts, and in the meantime, consult a book. Harry_  
_stared out of the window at the inky blue-black sky. He doubted_  
_very much whether a book could help him now. As far as he knew,_  
_he was the only living person to have survived a curse like Voldemort's;_  
_it was highly unlikely, therefore, that he would find his_  
_symptoms listed in Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions. As_  
_for informing the headmaster, Harry had no idea where Dumbledore_  
_went during the summer holidays. He amused himself for a_  
_moment, picturing Dumbledore, with his long silver beard, fulllength_  
_wizard's robes, and pointed hat, stretched out on a beach_  
_somewhere, rubbing suntan lotion onto his long crooked nose._

Everybody just had to laugh at that. Dumbledore chuckled.

"What do you do over summer holidays, Professor?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore just smiled and said, "Now, Harry, as your teacher I am not supposed to give you that information."

_Wherever Dumbledore was, though, Harry was sure that Hedwig_  
_would be able to find him; Harry's owl had never yet failed to deliver_  
_a letter to anyone, even without an address. But what would_  
_he write?_

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

_Sorry to bother you, but my scar hurt_  
_this morning._

_Yours sincerely, Harry Potter._

_Even inside his head the words sounded stupid._

"You know I would not have judged you, Harry."

"Sorry, Professor," Harry said.

_And so he tried to imagine his other best friend, Ron Weasley's,_

"Oh, here we go," Ron said.

_reaction, and in a moment, Ron's red hair and long-nosed, freckled_  
_face seemed to swim before Harry, wearing a bemused expression._

_"Your scar hurt? But . . . but You-Know-Who can't be near you_  
_now, can he? I mean . . . you'd know, wouldn't you? He'd be trying to_  
_do you in again, wouldn't he? I dunno, Harry, maybe curse scars always_  
_twinge a bit. . . . I'll ask Dad. . . ."_

_Mr. Weasley was a fully qualified wizard who worked in the_  
_Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry of Magic, but he_  
_didn't have any particular expertise in the matter of curses, as far as_  
_Harry knew. In any case, Harry didn't like the idea of the whole_  
_Weasley family knowing that he, Harry, was getting jumpy about_  
_a few moments' pain. Mrs. Weasley would fuss worse than_  
_Hermione,_

"I only care, dear," Mrs. Weasley said.

"I know, I didn't mean it like that," Harry explained.

_and Fred and George, Ron's sixteen-year-old twin_  
_brothers, might think Harry was losing his nerve. The Weasleys_  
_were Harry's favorite family in the world; he was hoping that they_  
_might invite him to stay any time now (Ron had mentioned something_  
_about the Quidditch World Cup), and he somehow didn't_  
_want his visit punctuated with anxious inquiries about his scar._

_Harry kneaded his forehead with his knuckles. What he really_  
_wanted (and it felt almost shameful to admit it to himself) was_  
_someone like — someone like a parent: an adult wizard whose advice_  
_he could ask without feeling stupid, someone who cared about_  
_him, who had had experience with Dark Magic. . . ._

Sirius cleared his throat loudly. "Oh, you know, I'm just your godfather, that's all!"

_And then the solution came to him. It was so simple, and so obvious,_  
_that he couldn't believe it had taken so long — Sirius._

"There ya go!"

_Harry leapt up from the bed, hurried across the room, and sat_  
_down at his desk; he pulled a piece of parchment toward him,_  
_loaded his eagle-feather quill with ink, wrote Dear Sirius, then_  
_paused, wondering how best to phrase his problem, still marveling_

_at the fact that he hadn't thought of Sirius straight away._

"So am I."

_But then, perhaps it wasn't so surprising — after all, he had only found out_  
_that Sirius was his godfather two months ago._

_There was a simple reason for Sirius's complete absence from_  
_Harry's life until then — Sirius had been in Azkaban, the terrifying_  
_wizard jail guarded by creatures called dementors, sightless, soulsucking_  
_fiends who had come to search for Sirius at Hogwarts_  
_when he had escaped. Yet Sirius had been innocent — the murders_  
_for which he had been convicted had been committed by Wormtail,_  
_Voldemort's supporter, whom nearly everybody now believed_  
_dead. Harry, Ron, and Hermione knew otherwise, however; they_  
_had come face-to-face with Wormtail only the previous year,_  
_though only Professor Dumbledore had believed their story._

_For one glorious hour, Harry had believed that he was leaving_  
_the Dursleys at last, because Sirius had offered him a home once his_  
_name had been cleared. But the chance had been snatched away_  
_from him — Wormtail had escaped before they could take him to_  
_the Ministry of Magic, and Sirius had had to flee for his life. Harry_  
_had helped him escape on the back of a hippogriff called Buckbeak,_  
_and since then, Sirius had been on the run. The home Harry might_  
_have had if Wormtail had not escaped had been haunting him all_  
_summer. It had been doubly hard to return to the Dursleys knowing_  
_that he had so nearly escaped them forever._

Sirius felt guilty knowing that he had planted those hopes in his godson's head.

_Nevertheless, Sirius had been of some help to Harry, even if he_  
_couldn't be with him. It was due to Sirius that Harry now had all_  
_his school things in his bedroom with him. The Dursleys had never_  
_allowed this before; their general wish of keeping Harry as miserable_  
_as possible, coupled with their fear of his powers, had led them_  
_to lock his school trunk in the cupboard under the stairs every_

_summer prior to this. But their attitude had changed since they_  
_had found out that Harry had a dangerous murderer for a godfather_  
_— for Harry had conveniently forgotten to tell them that_  
_Sirius was innocent._

Most of the room burst out laughing. "You are so like James!" Sirius laughed.

"Huh?" James said.

Remus smiled. "Harry's father James."

"Oh."

_Harry had received two letters from Sirius since he had been_  
_back at Privet Drive. Both had been delivered, not by owls (as was_  
_usual with wizards), but by large, brightly colored tropical birds._  
_Hedwig had not approved of these flashy intruders; she had been_  
_most reluctant to allow them to drink from her water tray before_  
_flying off again._

"Harry, you're bird is a snob," Ginny told him. He rolled his eyes and shrugged.

_Harry, on the other hand, had liked them; they put_  
_him in mind of palm trees and white sand, and he hoped that,_  
_wherever Sirius was (Sirius never said, in case the letters were intercepted),_  
_he was enjoying himself. Somehow, Harry found it hard to_  
_imagine dementors surviving for long in bright sunlight; perhaps_  
_that was why Sirius had gone south. Sirius's letters, which were now_  
_hidden beneath the highly useful loose floorboard under Harry's_  
_bed, sounded cheerful, and in both of them he had reminded_  
_Harry to call on him if ever Harry needed to. Well, he needed to_  
_now, all right. . . ._

_Harry's lamp seemed to grow dimmer as the cold gray light that_  
_precedes sunrise slowly crept into the room. Finally, when the sun_  
_had risen, when his bedroom walls had turned gold, and when_  
_sounds of movement could be heard from Uncle Vernon and Aunt_  
_Petunia's room, Harry cleared his desk of crumpled pieces of parchment_  
_and reread his finished letter._

_Dear Sirius,_  
_Thanks for your last letter. That bird was enormous; it_  
_could hardly get through my window._

_Things are the same as usual here. Dudley's diet isn't going_  
_too well. My aunt found him smuggling doughnuts into his_  
_room yesterday._

"Brat."

_They told him they'd have to cut his pocket_  
_money if he keeps doing it, so he got really angry and chucked_  
_his PlayStation out of the window._

"What's a-"

"Just leave it, Ron," Harry said.

_That's a sort of computer thing you can play games on. Bit stupid really, now he hasn't_  
_even got Mega-Mutilation Part Three to take his mind off_  
_things._

_I'm okay, mainly because the Dursleys are terrified you_  
_might turn up and turn them all into bats if I ask you to._

_A weird thing happened this morning, though. My scar_  
_hurt again. Last time that happened it was because Voldemort_  
_was at Hogwarts. But I don't reckon he can be anywhere near_  
_me now, can he? Do you know if curse scars sometimes hurt_  
_years afterward ?_

_I'll send this with Hedwig when she gets back; she's off hunting_  
_at the moment. Say hello to Buckbeak for me._

"Why'd you tell him that you've yet to send it?" Hermione asked. He shrugged.

_Yes, thought Harry, that looked all right. There was no point_  
_putting in the dream; he didn't want it to look as though he was too_  
_worried. He folded up the parchment and laid it aside on his desk,_  
_ready for when Hedwig returned. Then he got to his feet, stretched,_  
_and opened his wardrobe once more. Without glancing at his reflection,_  
_he started to get dressed before going down to breakfast._

Albus looked up. "That's the end of the chapter. Who's next?"


	5. Chapter 5

Rose extended her hand. "I'll go, since I didn't last time."

Albus handed over the book and Rose looked down at the title of the next chapter. "Chapter Three, The Invitation.

"_By the time Harry arrived in the kitchen, the three Dursleys were already seated around the table. None of them looked up as he entered or sat down. Uncle Vernon's large red face was hidden behind the morning's Daily Mail, and Aunt Petunia was cutting a grapefruit into quarters, her lips pursed over her horselike teeth._

_Dudley looked furious and sulky, and somehow seemed to be taking up even more space than usual. This was saying something, as he always took up an entire side of the square table by himself._

__"Fatty," Hugo muttered, getting him chuckles from around the room.

_When Aunt Petunia put a quarter of unsweetened grapefruit onto Dudley's plate with a tremulous "There you are, Diddy darling," Dudley glowered at her. His life had taken a most unpleasant turn_  
_since he had come home for the summer with his end-of-year report._

_Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had managed to find excuses for his bad marks as usual: Aunt Petunia always insisted that Dudley was a very gifted boy whose teachers didn't understand him,_

"Of course!" Molly exclaimed. As a mother, she was furious at the way Vernon and Petunia treated their son.

_while Uncle Vernon maintained that "he didn't want some swotty_  
_little nancy boy for a son anyway." They also skated over the accusations_  
_of bullying in the report — "He's a boisterous little boy, but_  
_he wouldn't hurt a fly!" Aunt Petunia had said tearfully._  
_However, at the bottom of the report there were a few wellchosen_  
_comments from the school nurse that not even Uncle Vernon_  
_and Aunt Petunia could explain away. No matter how much_  
_Aunt Petunia wailed that Dudley was big-boned, and that his_  
_poundage was really puppy fat,_

__There were several snorts around the room at this.

_and that he was a growing boy who_  
_needed plenty of food, the fact remained that the school outfitters_  
_didn't stock knickerbockers big enough for him anymore. The_  
_school nurse had seen what Aunt Petunia's eyes — so sharp when it_  
_came to spotting fingerprints on her gleaming walls, and in observing_  
_the comings and goings of the neighbors — simply refused_  
_to see: that far from needing extra nourishment, Dudley had_  
_reached roughly the size and weight of a young killer whale._  
_So — after many tantrums, after arguments that shook Harry's_  
_bedroom floor, and many tears from Aunt Petunia — the new_  
_regime had begun. The diet sheet that had been sent by the Smeltings_  
_school nurse had been taped to the fridge, which had been_  
_emptied of all Dudley's favorite things — fizzy drinks and cakes,_  
_chocolate bars and burgers — and filled instead with fruit and vegetables_  
_and the sorts of things that Uncle Vernon called "rabbit_  
_food." To make Dudley feel better about it all, Aunt Petunia had_  
_insisted that the whole family follow the diet too. She now passed_  
_a grapefruit quarter to Harry. He noticed that it was a lot smaller_  
_than Dudley's. Aunt Petunia seemed to feel that the best way to_  
_keep up Dudley's morale was to make sure that he did, at least, get_  
_more to eat than Harry._

"That's unfair!" Hermione cried out.

Harry shrugged. "That's the Dursleys."

_But Aunt Petunia didn't know what was hidden under the loose_  
_floorboard upstairs. She had no idea that Harry was not following_  
_the diet at all. The moment he had got wind of the fact that he was_  
_expected to survive the summer on carrot sticks, Harry had sent_  
_Hedwig to his friends with pleas for help, and they had risen to the_  
_occasion magnificently._

__"Because we're just good like that," Ron said, smugly.

_Hedwig had returned from Hermione's_  
_house with a large box stuffed full of sugar-free snacks. (Hermione's_  
_parents were dentists.)_

__Ron gaped, open-mouthed, at Hermione. "_Sugar-free_? Was that really necessary?"

She scowled at him. "Shut up, Ron! They're better for you!"

_Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, had_  
_obliged with a sack full of his own homemade rock cakes. (Harry_  
_hadn't touched these; he had had too much experience of Hagrid's_  
_cooking.) Mrs. Weasley, however, had sent the family owl, Errol,_  
_with an enormous fruitcake and assorted meat pies. Poor Errol, who_  
_was elderly and feeble, had needed a full five days to recover from_  
_the journey._

__"Bloody bird," most of the Weasley's grumbled.

_And then on Harry's birthday (which the Dursleys had_  
_completely ignored) he had received four superb birthday cakes,_  
_one each from Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, and Sirius. Harry still had_  
_two of them left, and so, looking forward to a real breakfast when he_  
_got back upstairs, he ate his grapefruit without complaint._  
_Uncle Vernon laid aside his paper with a deep sniff of disapproval_  
_and looked down at his own grapefruit quarter._  
_"Is this it?" he said grumpily to Aunt Petunia._  
_Aunt Petunia gave him a severe look, and then nodded pointedly_  
_at Dudley, who had already finished his own grapefruit quarter and_  
_was eyeing Harry's with a very sour look in his piggy little eyes._  
_Uncle Vernon gave a great sigh, which ruffled his large, bushy_  
_mustache, and picked up his spoon._  
_The doorbell rang. Uncle Vernon heaved himself out of his chair_  
_and set off down the hall. Quick as a flash, while his mother was_

_occupied with the kettle, Dudley stole the rest of Uncle Vernon's_  
_grapefruit._

"The little pig!"

_Harry heard talking at the door, and someone laughing, and_  
_Uncle Vernon answering curtly. Then the front door closed, and_  
_the sound of ripping paper came from the hall._  
_Aunt Petunia set the teapot down on the table and looked curiously_  
_around to see where Uncle Vernon had got to. She didn't have_  
_to wait long to find out; after about a minute, he was back. He_  
_looked livid._  
_"You," he barked at Harry. "In the living room. Now."_

__"Uh-oh," most of the room said, looking at Harry. This couldn't be good.

_Bewildered, wondering what on earth he was supposed to have_  
_done this time, Harry got up and followed Uncle Vernon out of the_  
_kitchen and into the next room. Uncle Vernon closed the door_  
_sharply behind both of them._  
_"So," he said, marching over to the fireplace and turning to face_  
_Harry as though he were about to pronounce him under arrest._  
_"So."_  
_Harry would have dearly loved to have said, "So what?" but he_  
_didn't feel that Uncle Vernon's temper should be tested this early in_  
_the morning, especially when it was already under severe strain_  
_from lack of food. He therefore settled for looking politely puzzled._  
_"This just arrived," said Uncle Vernon. He brandished a piece of_  
_purple writing paper at Harry. "A letter. About you."_

__"We're sorry, dear," Molly said, looking sympathetically at Harry. "We didn't know you'd get in trouble."

Harry smiled at her. "It's alright. It all worked out OK."

_Harry's confusion increased. Who would be writing to Uncle_  
_Vernon about him? Who did he know who sent letters by the_  
_postman?_  
_Uncle Vernon glared at Harry, then looked down at the letter_  
_and began to read aloud:_

_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dursley,_  
_We have never been introduced, but I am sure you have_  
_heard a great deal from Harry about my son Ron._  
_As Harry might have told you, the final of the Quidditch_  
_World Cup takes place this Monday night, and my husband,_  
_Arthur, has just managed to get prime tickets through his connections_  
_at the Department of Magical Games and Sports._  
_I do hope you will allow us to take Harry to the match, as_  
_this really is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity; Britain hasn't_  
_hosted the cup for thirty years, and tickets are extremely hard_  
_to come by. We would of course be glad to have Harry stay for_  
_the remainder of the summer holidays, and to see him safely_  
_onto the train back to school._  
_It would be best for Harry to send us your answer as quickly_  
_as possible in the normal way, because the Muggle postman has_  
_never delivered to our house, and I am not sure he even knows_  
_where it is._  
_Hoping to see Harry soon,_  
_Yours sincerely,_

_Molly Weasley_  
_P.S. I do hope we've put enough stamps on._

_Uncle Vernon finished reading, put his hand back into his breast_  
_pocket, and drew out something else._  
_"Look at this," he growled._  
_He held up the envelope in which Mrs. Weasley's letter had_  
_come, and Harry had to fight down a laugh._

__Mrs. Weasley looked hurt. "Sorry, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said. "It was just funny because of his face and his reaction to it."

_Every bit of it was_  
_covered in stamps except for a square inch on the front, into_  
_which Mrs. Weasley had squeezed the Dursleys' address in minute_  
_writing._  
_"She did put enough stamps on, then," said Harry, trying to_  
_sound as though Mrs. Weasley's was a mistake anyone could make._  
_His uncle's eyes flashed._  
_"The postman noticed," he said through gritted teeth. "Very interested_  
_to know where this letter came from, he was. That's why he_  
_rang the doorbell. Seemed to think it was funny."_  
_Harry didn't say anything. Other people might not understand_  
_why Uncle Vernon was making a fuss about too many stamps, but_  
_Harry had lived with the Dursleys too long not to know how_  
_touchy they were about anything even slightly out of the ordinary._  
_Their worst fear was that someone would find out that they were_  
_connected (however distantly) with people like Mrs. Weasley._

Several people huffed, clearly offended. Rose scowled at the book. Her uncle and father had shared many stories, but she hadn't known just how cruelly her uncle had been treated.

_Uncle Vernon was still glaring at Harry, who tried to keep his expression_  
_neutral. If he didn't do or say anything stupid, he might_  
_just be in for the treat of a lifetime. He waited for Uncle Vernon to_  
_say something, but he merely continued to glare. Harry decided to_  
_break the silence._  
_"So — can I go then?" he asked._  
_A slight spasm crossed Uncle Vernon's large purple face. The_  
_mustache bristled. Harry thought he knew what was going on behind_  
_the mustache:_

__This got several laughs. "Behind the mustache? Really, Harry?" George laughed.

_a furious battle as two of Uncle Vernon's most_  
_fundamental instincts came into conflict. Allowing Harry to go_  
_would make Harry happy, something Uncle Vernon had struggled_  
_against for thirteen years. On the other hand, allowing Harry to_  
_disappear to the Weasleys' for the rest of the summer would get rid_  
_of him two weeks earlier than anyone could have hoped, and_  
_Uncle Vernon hated having Harry in the house. To give himself_

_thinking time, it seemed, he looked down at Mrs. Weasley's letter_  
_again._  
_"Who is this woman?" he said, staring at the signature with_  
_distaste._  
_"You've seen her," said Harry. "She's my friend Ron's mother, she_  
_was meeting him off the Hog — off the school train at the end of_  
_last term."_  
_He had almost said "Hogwarts Express," and that was a sure way_  
_to get his uncle's temper up. Nobody ever mentioned the name of_  
_Harry's school aloud in the Dursley household._  
_Uncle Vernon screwed up his enormous face as though trying to_  
_remember something very unpleasant._  
_"Dumpy sort of woman?" he growled finally. "Load of children_  
_with red hair?"_

__"Oi!" the Weasley children, and their children, all called out.

"Who's he to call our mum dumpy?" George shouted.

"Yeah, she's not even the slightest bit!" Fred followed.

"And, besides," Ron said, hate glaring in his eyes, "he's no twig, now is he."

Mrs. Weasley hushed her sons, though she was smiling slightly to herself, happy they had been so willing to jump to her aid.

_Harry frowned. He thought it was a bit rich of Uncle Vernon to_  
_call anyone "dumpy," when his own son, Dudley, had finally_  
_achieved what he'd been threatening to do since the age of three,_  
_and become wider than he was tall._

"Is that physically possible?" Hermione asked, hoping to distract the room from thoughts of going to kill Vernon Dursley for insulting Mrs. Weasley, though she too was angry.

It didn't work.

_Uncle Vernon was perusing the letter again._  
_"Quidditch," he muttered under his breath. "Quidditch — what_  
_is this rubbish?"_  
_Harry felt a second stab of annoyance._  
_"It's a sport," he said shortly. "Played on broom —"_  
_"All right, all right!" said Uncle Vernon loudly. Harry saw, with_  
_some satisfaction, that his uncle looked vaguely panicky. Apparently_  
_his nerves couldn't stand the sound of the word "broomsticks"_  
_in his living room. He took refuge in perusing the letter_  
_again. Harry saw his lips form the words "send us your answer . . ._  
_in the normal way." He scowled._  
_"What does she mean, 'the normal way'?" he spat._  
_"Normal for us," said Harry, and before his uncle could stop_  
_him, he added, "you know, owl post. That's what's normal for_  
_wizards."_  
_Uncle Vernon looked as outraged as if Harry had just uttered a_  
_disgusting swear word. Shaking with anger, he shot a nervous look_  
_through the window, as though expecting to see some of the neighbors_  
_with their ears pressed against the glass._  
_"How many times do I have to tell you not to mention that unnaturalness_  
_under my roof?" he hissed, his face now a rich plum_  
_color. "You stand there, in the clothes Petunia and I have put on_  
_your ungrateful back —"_  
_"Only after Dudley finished with them," said Harry coldly, and_  
_indeed, he was dressed in a sweatshirt so large for him that he had_  
_had to roll back the sleeves five times so as to be able to use his_  
_hands, and which fell past the knees of his extremely baggy jeans._  
_"I will not be spoken to like that!" said Uncle Vernon, trembling_  
_with rage._  
_But Harry wasn't going to stand for this. Gone were the days_  
_when he had been forced to take every single one of the Dursleys'_  
_stupid rules. He wasn't following Dudley's diet, and he wasn't going_  
_to let Uncle Vernon stop him from going to the Quidditch World_  
_Cup, not if he could help it. Harry took a deep, steadying breath_  
_and then said, "Okay, I can't see the World Cup. Can I go now,_  
_then? Only I've got a letter to Sirius I want to finish. You know —_  
_my godfather."_  
_He had done it. He had said the magic words. Now he watched_  
_the purple recede blotchily from Uncle Vernon's face, making it_  
_look like badly mixed black currant ice cream._

"Ew," several girls muttered.

_"You're — you're writing to him, are you?" said Uncle Vernon,_  
_in a would-be calm voice — but Harry had seen the pupils of his_  
_tiny eyes contract with sudden fear._  
_"Well — yeah," said Harry, casually. "It's been a while since he_  
_heard from me, and, you know, if he doesn't, he might start thinking_  
_something's wrong."_  
_He stopped there to enjoy the effect of these words. He could almost_  
_see the cogs working under Uncle Vernon's thick, dark, neatly_  
_parted hair. If he tried to stop Harry writing to Sirius, Sirius would_  
_think Harry was being mistreated. If he told Harry he couldn't go_  
_to the Quidditch World Cup, Harry would write and tell Sirius,_  
_who would know Harry was being mistreated. There was only one_  
_thing for Uncle Vernon to do. Harry could see the conclusion_  
_forming in his uncle's mind as though the great mustached face_  
_were transparent. Harry tried not to smile, to keep his own face as_  
_blank as possible. And then —_  
_"Well, all right then. You can go to this ruddy . . . this stupid . . ._  
_this World Cup thing. You write and tell these — these Weasleys_  
_they're to pick you up, mind. I haven't got time to go dropping you_  
_off all over the country. And you can spend the rest of the summer_  
_there. And you can tell your — your godfather . . . tell him . . . tell_  
_him you're going."_

Sirius smiled. "I love the effect I have."

_"Okay then," said Harry brightly._  
_He turned and walked toward the living room door, fighting the_  
_urge to jump into the air and whoop. He was going . . . he was_  
_going to the Weasleys', he was going to watch the Quidditch World_  
_Cup!_  
_Outside in the hall he nearly ran into Dudley, who had been_  
_told off. He looked shocked to see the broad grin on Harry's_  
_face._  
_"That was an excellent breakfast, wasn't it?" said Harry. "I feel_  
_really full, don't you?"_  
_Laughing at the astonished look on Dudley's face, Harry took_  
_the stairs three at a time, and hurled himself back into his_  
_bedroom._  
_The first thing he saw was that Hedwig was back. She was sitting_  
_in her cage, staring at Harry with her enormous amber eyes, and_  
_clicking her beak in the way that meant she was annoyed about_  
_something. Exactly what was annoying her became apparent almost_  
_at once._  
_"OUCH!" said Harry as what appeared to be a small, gray,_  
_feathery tennis ball collided with the side of his head._

__Ginny looked indignantly at Harry. "Pigwidgeon does not resemble a ball! And what is tennis, anyway?"

Harry sighed. "I'll tell you later," then motioned for Rose to continue.

_Harry massaged_  
_the spot furiously, looking up to see what had hit him, and_  
_saw a minute owl, small enough to fit into the palm of his hand,_  
_whizzing excitedly around the room like a loose firework. Harry_  
_then realized that the owl had dropped a letter at his feet. Harry_  
_bent down, recognized Ron's handwriting, then tore open the envelope._  
_Inside was a hastily scribbled note._  
_Harry — DAD GOT THE TICKETS — Ireland versus_  
_Bulgaria, Monday night. Mum's writing to the Muggles to ask_  
_you to stay. They might already have the letter, I don't know_  
_how fast Muggle post is. Thought I'd send this with Pig_  
_anyway._

_Harry stared at the word "Pig," then looked up at the tiny owl_  
_now zooming around the light fixture on the ceiling. He had never_

_seen anything that looked less like a pig. Maybe he couldn't read_  
_Ron's writing. He went back to the letter:_  
_We're coming for you whether the Muggles like it or not, you_  
_can't miss the World Cup, only Mum and Dad reckon it's better_  
_if we pretend to ask their permission first. If they say yes, send_  
_Pig back with your answer pronto, and we'll come and get you_  
_at five o'clock on Sunday. If they say no, send Pig back pronto_  
_and we'll come and get you at five o'clock on Sunday anyway._

Most of the room laughed.

_Hermione's arriving this afternoon. Percy's started work —_  
_the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Don't_  
_mention anything about Abroad while you're here unless you_  
_want the pants bored off you._  
_See you soon —_ Ron

_"Calm down!" Harry said as the small owl flew low over his_  
_head, twittering madly with what Harry could only assume was_  
_pride at having delivered the letter to the right person. "Come here,_  
_I need you to take my answer back!"_  
_The owl fluttered down on top of Hedwig's cage. Hedwig looked_  
_coldly up at it, as though daring it to try and come any closer._  
_Harry seized his eagle-feather quill once more, grabbed a fresh_  
_piece of parchment, and wrote:_  
_Ron, it's all okay, the Muggles say I can come. See you five_  
_o'clock tomorrow. Can't wait._  
_He folded this note up very small, and with immense difficulty,_  
_tied it to the tiny owl's leg as it hopped on the spot with excitement._  
_The moment the note was secure, the owl was off again; it_  
_zoomed out of the window and out of sight._

"That bird is insane!" Ron muttered.

"Isn't he the one I told you to keep?" Sirius asked. Ron nodded. "Glad to see you enjoy my gifts," Sirius said, huffily.

_Harry turned to Hedwig._  
_"Feeling up to a long journey?" he asked her._  
_Hedwig hooted in a dignified sort of a way._  
_"Can you take this to Sirius for me?" he said, picking up his letter._  
_"Hang on . . . I just want to finish it."_  
_He unfolded the parchment and hastily added a postscript._  
_If you want to contact me, I'll be at my friend Ron Weasley's for_  
_the rest of the summer. His dad's got us tickets for the Quidditch_  
_World Cup!_  
_The letter finished, he tied it to Hedwig's leg; she kept unusually_  
_still, as though determined to show him how a real post owl should_  
_behave._

"Uncle Harry, your owl is such a snob," Dominique said.

Harry was offended on Hedwig's behalf. "She's just proper!"

_"I'll be at Ron's when you get back, all right?" Harry told her._  
_She nipped his finger affectionately, then, with a soft swooshing_  
_noise, spread her enormous wings and soared out of the open_  
_window._  
_Harry watched her out of sight, then crawled under his bed,_  
_wrenched up the loose floorboard, and pulled out a large chunk of_  
_birthday cake. He sat there on the floor eating it, savoring the happiness_  
_that was flooding through him. He had cake, and Dudley_  
_had nothing but grapefruit;_

__"Yep," Ron said. "That's the important part."

_it was a bright summer's day, he would_

_be leaving Privet Drive tomorrow, his scar felt perfectly normal_  
_again, and he was going to watch the Quidditch World Cup. It was_  
_hard, just now, to feel worried about anything — even Lord_  
_Voldemort._

Rose looked up. "That's the end. Who wants to read next?"

Mrs. Weasley looked around. "How about we have something to eat first? We've read three chapters and I think a break will do us some good."


	6. Chapter 6

As they all stood up and stretched their legs, a loud beeping noise came from Lily's pocket. Everyone turned to look at her. The people from the past were curious, while everyone from the future had turned white as a ghost.

"Uh-oh," Lily said, staring at her pocket like it held a bomb.

"That's not good," Teddy said.

The beeping steadily grew louder. "Might as well answer, Lils," Rose said. "It'll just keep getting louder until you do."

She reached into her pocket with a shaking hand and pulled out a galleon. Rose looked at everyone else. "Um, it was an idea that you all have next year, and in the future you enhance it, turning it into something resembling a muggle cell phone, except it can be used in places of heavy magical population, since it isn't technically technology. Almost every wizard owns one in our time. Less distracting than a patronus, since it can be turned on vibrate and saves all messages, and you can send text messages, too. So, like I said, wizard cell phones." She turned to her cousin. "I thought you left it back at your place, like the rest of us?!"

She looked up fearfully. "I forgot to take it out of my pocket."

"What are you all so scared of?" Ron asked. "It's just someone contacting you."

James shook his head. "No, it isn't just anyone. I think we all knew before we even looked at the number." He stared at the galleon, swallowed hard, then pressed it.

"LILY LUNA-!" came a loud voice. Everyone jumped, shooting a glance immediately at Mrs. Weasley.

"Um...Hi, mum."

"WHAT ON _EARTH_ WERE YOU THINKING? No, I know the answer. YOU WEREN'T!" All of the kids from the future looked like deer caught in the headlights. "Imagine how worried we were? First we come home to find the three of you missing, then your aunts and uncles start calling, asking if we've seen you. Luna was convinced Lorcan and Lysander were taken by nargles!"

Everyone turned to look at her. She shrugged.

"Listen, I-"

"No, Lily, you listen! Wherever you are, I want you to come straight home! Do you hear me? STRAIGHT HOME! Your father is worried sick. He's considering calling all of the aurors together to find you!"

"Listen! Mum, we're fine! I'm fine, they are fine, Teddy's fi-"

"Teddy! Oh, put him on, I'd like to have a word with him!"

Lily hesitantly handed Teddy the galleon, an apologetic look in her eyes. Ron chuckled, whispering in his sister's ear, "Just like mum," which earned him an elbow to the gut.

"Y-yes, Aunt Ginny?" Teddy asked.

"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? Going out with no note? We went to your house, and Harry was practically hyperventilating! You know you're like his son, which makes you the oldest, which makes you responsible! Now, please tell me. Where are you?"

Teddy looked around. "Yeah, that's a bit complicated."

"I can keep up. Now come on."

"Well, there was this Galleon-Recorder, and possibly a time turner and some mass apparition. And we might be in the year 1994. In the Room of Requirement. Reading some books."

"Edward Remus Lupin, please, elaborate," Future-Ginny said, voice deadly calm. "You have roughly five minutes before everyone else gets here to plan a search, and it would be lovely to know what is going on exactly."

Teddy took a deep breath and then launched into his story, speaking quickly. "Well, we made a message and sent it into the past and then we used the time turner mixed with some apparition to get us to the Room of Requirement where we called some select people to come and read some books about Uncle Harry so that certain people could be saved."

There was silence before Ginny sighed. "Are they listening?"

"Yeah."

Another sigh. "Then I'll be as vauge as possible. Teddy, I know exactly who you want to save. I want to save them, too. Along with all of the others. But, honestly, Teddy, it's dangerous, what you're doing."

"I know. But, if you found a way, if you had the option right in front of you, wouldn't you want to take it? Would you really pass it up and just let things take their course? Would you just let him die?"

Most of the future kids found this to be low, playing on her emotions of Fred's death. But it was the only way to convince Ginny to let them stay. There was a ringing in the background on her end.

"They're here. They'll want to talk to you. Then we'll decide."

After a few minutes with muffled voices, there was a clamoring, followed by a panicked, older Hermione speaking from the other end. "Are you all still there?"

Rose took the galleon from Teddy. "Yeah."

There was a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness. And everyone is alright?"

"Yep."

"Good. Listen, we'll call you back in a bit, after we all discuss this. DON'T DO ANYTHING ELSE!"

Then silence.

Fred let out a low whistle. "Wow. Something tells me a few people are in trouble when they get home."

George nodded. "Yeah. If Gin's anything like mum, I pity you all." That earned him a smack from both his sister and mother. "Yep. Pity."

Mrs. Weasley sighed. "Well, I'll go and make some lunch while we wait," she said, scurrying through the door labeled Kitchen.

Ginny turned to Teddy. "Who is it that I want to save so desperately?" she asked, sounding worried. Her eyes scanned her parents, then all six of her brothers. The thought of losing any of them chilled her to the bone. "Is it one of them?" she asked, nodding in their direction. He nodded slightly, and she put a hand to her mouth

What other horrors did the future hold?


	7. Chapter 7

After lunch they all sat back down and prepared to continue.

Draco sighed. "Why couldn't you do that fast-forward spell thing with all of the books?" he complained.

Rose sighed. "It only works with so much per spell. It only got us through the first three, and it took all of us together. And it only works once per person."

"Couldn't the rest of us use our magic to do it with the next ones?" Ron asked, hoping to be able to skip as much as possible.

She nodded. "Well, it would only get us through the fourth and fifth books, since they are the longest. You should know, though, that this is where the deaths really start. And the end of year four is... shocking."

"It'll be fine," Hermione said. "What's the spell?"

"Well, you invented it," Al said with a smile. "It goes Recita Mihi. Got it?"

They all nodded. Lily spoke up, "You all have to say it at once, okay? On the count of three. One...Two...Three!"

All but the future kids recited the spell, and they were met with an onslaught of new information. Cedric gasped, and Sirius' eyes grew wide. Everyone looked at them, clearly sad. Cho cried, having seen the relationship she began with Cedric before he died. Harry and Remus stared at Sirius, the thought of his death too horrible.

And on top of all of this, one thought met them.

"He comes back," Mrs. Weasley whispered, clutching her husband's arm.

"I-I guess we should continue," Teddy said awkwardly. "We best start on the sixth book. Who wants to start?" He sounded like he was trying not to break them.

"I will," Remus muttered. He needed to be distracted from his best friend's death, even if a little bit. He took the book from Teddy, who shivered from such close contact to his father. "Chapter One: The Other Minister."

It was nearing midnight and the Prime Minister was sitting alone in his

office, reading a long memo that was slipping through his brain without

leaving the slightest trace of meaning behind. He was waiting for a call from

the President of a far distant country, and between wondering when the

wretched man would telephone, and trying to suppress unpleasant memories

of what had been a very long, tiring, and difficult week, there was not much

space in his head for anything else. The more he attempted to focus on the

print on the page before him, the more clearly the Prime Minister could see

the gloating face of one of his political opponents.

"Why are we hearing about the Prime Minister?" Hermione asked, clearly confused. The others weren't sure, so they didn't answer.

This particular opponent had appeared on the news that very day, not only to enumerate all the

terrible things that had happened in the last week (as though anyone needed

reminding) but also to explain why each and every one of them was the

government's fault.

The Prime Minister's pulse quickened at the very thought of these

accusations, for they were neither fair nor true. How on earth was his

government supposed to have stopped that bridge collapsing? It was

outrageous for anybody to suggest that they were not spending enough on

bridges. The bridge was fewer than ten years old, and the best experts were

at a loss to explain why it had snapped cleanly in two, sending a dozen cars

into the watery depths of the river below.

"That's terrible!" Rose cried out. Scorpius rubbed her arm consolingly. Ron let out a low growl.

"Ronald, behave," his mother scolded.

And how dare anyone suggest that it was lack of policemen that had resulted in those two very nasty and wellpublicized murders? Or that the government should have somehow foreseen

the freak hurricane in the West Country that had caused so much damage to

both people and property? And was it his fault that one of his Junior

Ministers, Herbert Chorley, had chosen this week to act so peculiarly that he

was now going to be spending a lot more time with his family?

"A grim mood has gripped the country," the opponent had concluded,

barely concealing his own broad grin.

And unfortunately, this was perfectly true. The Prime Minister felt it

himself; people really did seem more miserable than usual. Even the weather

was dismal; all this chilly mist in the middle of July... It wasn't right, it

wasn't normal...

Harry shuddered, along with everyone in the room who had felt the cold aura that surrounded dementors. Lily again leaned against her father's legs, wishing he knew that she was his so that he'd console her the way he did in her time when she was frightened. But, she would have that soon. Her father had told her that he had finally fallen in love with her mother sixth year. She couldn't wait.

He turned over the second page of the memo, saw how much longer it

went on, and gave it up as a bad job. Stretching his arms above his head he

looked around his office mournfully. It was a handsome room, with a fine

marble fireplace facing the long sash windows, firmly closed against the

unseasonable chill. With a slight shiver, the Prime Minister got up and

moved over to the window, looking out at the thin mist that was pressing

itself against the glass. It was then, as he stood with his back to the room,

that he heard a soft cough behind him.

He froze, nose to nose with his own scared-looking reflection in the dark

glass. He knew that cough. He had heard it before. He turned very slowly to

face the empty room.

"Hello?" he said, trying to sound braver than he felt.

"That's actually smart," Neville said. "Don't show fear." Cora smiled at him and he gave her an uneasy one in return.

For a brief moment he allowed himself the impossible hope that nobody

would answer him. However, a voice responded at once, a crisp, decisive

voice that sounded as though it were reading a prepared statement. It was

coming - as the Prime Minister had known at the first cough - from the

froglike little man wearing a long silver wig who was depicted in a small,

dirty oil painting in the far corner of the room.

"To the Prime Minister of Muggles. Urgent we meet. Kindly respond

immediately. Sincerely, Fudge."

The man in the painting looked inquiringly at the Prime Minister.

Ron was confused. "Why the bloody hell would Fudge want to talk to the muggle minister?"

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes before saying, "Wouldn't you think that sometimes we have to inform the muggle government of things, Ron? And how better to do so that through the most powerful man in the country?"

"Er," said the Prime Minister, "listen... It's not a very good time for me...

I'm waiting for a telephone call, you see... from the President of-"

James snorted. "Are they never gonna say which president it is?"

"That can be rearranged," said the portrait at once. The Prime Minister's

heart sank. He had been afraid of that.

"But I really was rather hoping to speak-"

"We shall arrange for the President to forget to call. He will telephone

tomorrow night instead," said the little man. "Kindly respond immediately to

Mr. Fudge."

"I... oh... very well," said the Prime Minister weakly. "Yes, I'll see

Fudge."

He hurried back to his desk, straightening his tie as he went. He had

barely resumed his seat, and arranged his face into what he hoped was a

relaxed and unfazed expression, when bright green flames burst into life in

the empty grate beneath his marble mantelpiece. He watched, trying not to

betray a flicker of surprise or alarm, as a portly man appeared within the

flames, spinning as fast as a top. Seconds later, he had climbed out onto a

rather fine antique rug, brushing ash from the sleeves of his long pin-striped

cloak, a lime-green bowler hat in his hand.

"Ah... Prime Minister," said Cornelius Fudge, striding forward with his

hand outstretched. "Good to see you again."

The Prime Minister could not honestly return this compliment, so said

nothing at all. He was not remotely pleased to see Fudge, whose occasional

appearances, apart from being downright alarming in themselves, generally

meant that he was about to hear some very bad news. Furthermore, Fudge

was looking distinctly careworn. He was thinner, balder, and grayer, and his

face had a crumpled look. The Prime Minister had seen that kind of look in

politicians before, and it never boded well.

"How can I help you?" he said, shaking Fudge's hand very briefly and

gesturing toward the hardest of the chairs in front of the desk.

"Well, that eez rude!" Fleur said indignantly. Many other females agreed.

"Difficult to know where to begin," muttered Fudge, pulling up the chair,

sitting down, and placing his green bowler upon his knees. "What a week,

what a week..."

"Had a bad one too, have you?" asked the Prime Minister stiffly, hoping

to convey by this that he had quite enough on his plate already without any

extra helpings from Fudge.

"Yes, of course," said Fudge, rubbing his eyes wearily and looking

morosely at the Prime Minister. "I've been having the same week you have,

Prime Minister. The Brockdale Bridge... the Bones and Vance murders... not

to mention the ruckus in the West Country..."

"Bones? Vance?" a few people looked at Remus, knowing the families.

"You-er-your-I mean to say, some of your people were-were involved

in those-those things, were they?"

Fudge fixed the Prime Minister with a rather stern look. "Of course they

were," he said, "Surely you've realized what's going on?"

"I..." hesitated the Prime Minister.

It was precisely this sort of behavior that made him dislike Fudge's visits

so much. He was, after all, the Prime Minister and did not appreciate being

made to feel like an ignorant schoolboy.

Cora snorted. "Not Fudge's fault if you act like one." Several people laughed. Harry saw James catch her eye and wink, followed by her blush. He wondered if anything was happening there...

But of course, it had been like this from his very first meeting with Fudge on his very first evening as Prime

Minister. He remembered it as though it were yesterday and knew it would

haunt him until his dying day.

He had been standing alone in this very office, savoring the triumph that

was his after so many years of dreaming and scheming, when he had heard a

cough behind him, just like tonight, and turned to find that ugly little portrait talking to him, announcing that the Minister of Magic was about to arrive

and introduce himself

Naturally, he had thought that the long campaign and the strain of the

election had caused him to go mad. He had been utterly terrified to find a

portrait talking to him, though this had been nothing to how he felt when a

self-proclaimed wizard had bounced out of the fireplace and shaken his

hand. He had remained speechless throughout Fudge's kindly explanation

that there were witches and wizards still living in secret all over the world

and his reassurances that he was not to bother his head about them as the

Ministry of Magic took responsibility for the whole Wizarding community

and prevented the non-magical population from getting wind of them. It was,

said Fudge, a difficult job that encompassed everything from regulations on

responsible use of broomsticks to keeping the dragon population under

control (the Prime Minister remembered clutching the desk for support at

this point). Fudge had then patted the shoulder of the still-dumbstruck Prime

Minister in a fatherly sort of way.

"Not to worry," he had said, "it's odds-on you'll never see me again. I'll

only bother you if there's something really serious going on our end,

something that's likely to affect the Muggles-the non-magical population, I

should say. Otherwise, it's live and let live. And I must say, you're taking it a

lot better than your predecessor. He tried to throw me out the window,

thought I was a hoax planned by the opposition."

Many people chuckled. "I'd like to see someone try and throw Fudge out a window," Sirius laughed, seeming to get past his shock of hearing of his own death.

"Try? I'd like to see someone succeed," Ron said.

At this, the Prime Minister had found his voice at last. "You're-you're not

a hoax, then?"

It had been his last, desperate hope.

"No," said Fudge gently. "No, I'm afraid I'm not. Look."

And he had turned the Prime Minister's teacup into a gerbil.

"But," said the Prime Minister breathlessly, watching his teacup chewing

on the corner of his next speech, "but why-why has nobody told me-?"

"The Minister of Magic only reveals him-or herself to the Muggle Prime

Minister of the day," said Fudge, poking his wand back inside his jacket.

"We find it the best way to maintain secrecy."

"But then," bleated the Prime Minister, "why hasn't a former Prime

Minister warned me-?"

At this, Fudge had actually laughed.

"My dear Prime Minister, are you ever going to tell anybody?"

Still chortling, Fudge had thrown some powder into the fireplace, stepped

into the emerald flames, and vanished with a whooshing sound. The Prime

Minister had stood there, quite motionless, and realized that he would never,

as long as he lived, dare mention this encounter to a living soul, for who in

the wide world would believe him? The shock had taken a little while to wear off. For a time, he had tried to

convince himself that Fudge had indeed been a hallucination brought on by

lack of sleep during his grueling election campaign.

"He wishes."

"A favor, please, James?"

"Yeah, Rose?"

"Shut up! You're not funny!" she shouted.

James opened his mouth, but his brother sent him a murderous glare that highly resembled their mother's. Albus was always the only one who could break up their arguements, for reasons unknown, even to them.

In a vain attempt to rid himself of all reminders of this uncomfortable encounter, he had given the

gerbil to his delighted niece and instructed his private secretary to take down

the portrait of the ugly little man who had announced Fudge's arrival. To the

Prime Minister's dismay, however, the portrait had proved impossible to

remove. When several carpenters, a builder or two, an art historian, and the

Chancellor of the Exchequer had all tried unsuccessfully to pry it from the

wall, the Prime Minister had abandoned the attempt and simply resolved to

hope that the thing remained motionless and silent for the rest of his term in

office. Occasionally he could have sworn he saw out of the corner of his eye

the occupant of the painting yawning, or else scratching his nose; even, once

or twice, simply walking out of his frame and leaving nothing but a stretch

of muddy-brown canvas behind. However, he had trained himself not to look

at the picture very much, and always to tell himself firmly that his eyes were

playing tricks on him when anything like this happened.

Then, three years ago, on a night very like tonight, the Prime Minister had

been alone in his office when the portrait had once again announced the

imminent arrival of Fudge, who had burst out of the fireplace, sopping wet

and in a state of considerable panic. Before the Prime Minister could ask

why he was dripping all over the Axminster, Fudge had started ranting about

a prison the Prime Minister had never heard of, a man named "Serious"

Black, something that sounded like "Hogwarts," and a boy called Harry

Potter, none of which made the remotest sense to the Prime Minister. "...I've just come from Azkaban," Fudge had panted, tipping a large

amount of water out of the rim of his bowler hat into his pocket. "Middle of

the North Sea, you know, nasty flight... the dementors are in uproar"-he

shuddered-"they've never had a breakout before. Anyway, I had to come to

you, Prime Minister. Black's a known Muggle killer and may be planning to

rejoin You-Know-Who... But of course, you don't even know who YouKnow-Who is!" He had gazed hopelessly at the Prime Minister for a

moment, then said, "Well, sit down, sit down, I'd better fill you in... Have a

whiskey..."

"Not just You-Know-Who, how is he supposed to know any of that?" Charlie asked incredulously.

The Prime Minister rather resented being told to sit down in his own

office, let alone offered his own whiskey, but he sat nevertheless. Fudge

pulled out his wand, conjured two large glasses full of amber liquid out of

thin air, pushed one of them into the Prime Minister's hand, and drew up a

chair.

Fudge had talked for more than an hour. At one point, he had refused to

say a certain name aloud and wrote it instead on a piece of parchment, which

he had thrust into the Prime Minister's whiskey-free hand. When at last

Fudge had stood up to leave, the Prime Minister had stood up too.

"So you think that..." He had squinted down at the name in his left hand.

"Lord Vol-"

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!" snarled Fudge.

"Wuss," muttered Teddy. Victoire nodded in agreement, having been the only one to hear him, as she was curled up next to him.

"I'm sorry... You think that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is still alive,

then?"

"Well, Dumbledore says he is," said Fudge, as he had fastened his pinstriped cloak under his chin, "but we've never found him. If you ask me, he's

not dangerous unless he's got support, so it's Black we ought to be worrying

about. You'll put out that warning, then? Excellent. Well, I hope we don't see

each other again, Prime Minister! Good night."

But they had seen each other again. Less than a year later a harassedlooking Fudge had appeared out of thin air in the cabinet room to inform the

Prime Minister that there had been a spot of bother at the Kwidditch (or that

was what it had sounded like) World Cup and that several Muggles had been

"involved," but that the Prime Minister was not to worry, the fact that YouKnow-Who's Mark had been seen again meant nothing; Fudge was sure it

was an isolated incident, and the Muggle Liaison Office was dealing with all

memory modifications as they spoke.

"Oh, and I almost forgot," Fudge had added. "We're importing three

foreign dragons and a sphinx for the Triwizard Tournament, quite routine,

but the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures tells

me that it's down in the rule book that we have to notify you if we're

bringing highly dangerous creatures into the country."

"Gee, I guess it wouldn't be nice to ask how he felt about that, now would it?" Rose said.

"I-what-dragons?" spluttered the Prime Minister.

"Yes, three," said Fudge. "And a sphinx. Well, good day to you." The Prime Minister had hoped beyond hope that dragons and sphinxes

would be the worst of it, but no. Less than two years later, Fudge had

erupted out of the fire yet again, this time with the news that there had been

a mass breakout from Azkaban.

"A mass breakout?" repeated the Prime Minister hoarsely.

"No need to worry, no need to worry!" shouted Fudge, already with one

foot in the flames. "We'll have them rounded up in no time-just thought you

ought to know!"

And before the Prime Minister could shout, "Now, wait just one

moment!" Fudge had vanished in a shower of green sparks.

Whatever the press and the opposition might say, the Prime Minister was

not a foolish man. It had not escaped his notice that, despite Fudge's

assurances at their first meeting, they were now seeing rather a lot of each

other, nor that Fudge was becoming more flustered with each visit. Little

though he liked to think about the Minister of Magic (or, as he always called

Fudge in his head, the Other Minister), the Prime Minister could not help but

fear that the next time Fudge appeared it would be with graver news still.

The site, therefore, of Fudge stepping out of the fire once more, looking

disheveled and fretful and sternly surprised that the Prime Minister did not

know exactly why he was there, was about the worst thing that had

happened in the course of this extremely gloomy week. "How should I know what's going on in the-er-Wizarding community?"

Harry sighed. "Maybe he should have thought about the fact that maybe our worlds are mixed."

Several people nodded and muttered their agreement.

snapped the Prime Minister now. "I have a country to run and quite enough

concerns at the moment without-"

"We have the same concerns," Fudge interrupted. "The Brock-dale Bridge

didn't wear out. That wasn't really a hurricane. Those murders were not the

work of Muggles. And Herbert Chorley's family would be safer without him.

We are currently making arrangements to have him transferred to St.

Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. The move should be

affected tonight."

"What do you... I'm afraid I... What?" blustered the Prime Minister.

Fudge took a great, deep breath and said, "Prime Minister, I am very sorry

to have to tell you that he's back. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back."

"Back? When you say 'back'... he's alive? I mean-"

The Prime Minister groped in his memory for the details of that horrible

conversation of three years previously, when Fudge had told him about the

wizard who was feared above all others, the wizard who had committed a

thousand terrible crimes before his mysterious disappearance fifteen years

earlier.

"Yes, alive," said Fudge. "That is-I don't know-is a man alive if he can't

be killed? I don't really understand it, and Dumbledore won't explain properly-but anyway, he's certainly got a body and is walking and talking

and killing, so I suppose, for the purposes of our discussion, yes, he's alive."

The Prime Minister did not know what to say to this, but a persistent habit

of wishing to appear well-informed on any subject that came up made him

cast around for any details he could remember of their previous

conversations.

"Is Serious Black with-er-He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

"Black? Black?" said Fudge distractedly, turning his bowler rapidly in his

fingers. "Sirius Black, you mean? Merlin's beard, no. Black's dead. Turns

out we were-er-mistaken about Black. He was innocent after all. And he

wasn't in league with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named either. I mean," he

added defensively, spinning the bowler hat still faster, "all the evidence

pointed-we had more than fifty eyewitnesses-but anyway, as I say, he's

dead. Murdered, as a matter of fact. On Ministry of Magic premises. There's

going to be an inquiry, actually..."

There were small protests. Harry was incredibly angry. "They wait until AFTER he d-d-... is gone untile they figure out he's innocent?!" Sirius put a comforting hand on his shoulder, but then let it fall to his side.

To his great surprise, the Prime Minister felt a fleeting stab of pity for

Fudge at this point. It was, however, eclipsed almost immediately by a glow

of smugness at the thought that, deficient though he himself might be in the

area of materializing out of fireplaces, there had never been a murder in any

of the government departments under his charge... Not yet, anyway... While the Prime Minister surreptitiously touched the wood of his desk,

Fudge continued, "But Blacks by-the-by now. The point is, we're at war,

Prime Minister, and steps must be taken."

"At war?" repeated the Prime Minister nervously. "Surely that's a little bit

of an overstatement?"

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has now been joined by those of his

followers who broke out of Azkaban in January," said Fudge, speaking more

and more rapidly and twirling his bowler so fast that it was a lime-green

blur. "Since they have moved into the open, they have been wreaking havoc.

The Brockdale Bridge-he did it, Prime Minister, he threatened a mass

Muggle killing unless I stood aside for him and-"

"Good grief, so it's your fault those people were killed and I'm having to

answer questions about rusted rigging and corroded expansion joints and I

don't know what else!" said the Prime Minister furiously.

"My fault!" said Fudge, coloring up. "Are you saying you would have

caved in to blackmail like that?"

"Maybe not," said the Prime Minister, standing up and striding about the

room, "but I would have put all my efforts into catching the blackmailer

before he committed any such atrocity!"

"Do you really think I wasn't already making every effort?" demanded

Fudge heatedly. "Every Auror in the Ministry was-and is-trying to find him and round up his followers, but we happen to be talking about one of the

most powerful wizards of all time, a wizard who has eluded capture for

almost three decades!"

"So I suppose you're going to tell me he caused the hurricane in the West

Country too?" said the Prime Minister, his temper rising with every pace he

took. It was infuriating to discover the reason for all these terrible disasters

and not to be able to tell the public, almost worse than it being the

government's fault after all.

"That was no hurricane," said Fudge miserably.

"Excuse me!" barked the Prime Minister, now positively stamping up and

down. "Trees uprooted, roofs ripped off, lampposts bent, horrible injuries-"

"It was the Death Eaters," said Fudge. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's

followers. And... and we suspect giant involvement."

James, Lucy, Cora, Lorcan, and Lysander shuddered. "Remember that one in second year?" Lucy said.

"What one?" Percy asked, realizing his future daughter was involved.

"Nothing! She said nothing!" Lysander said. His eyes mentally warned Lucy not to say anymore. She sent him an apologetic look, and his face immediately softened. Luna watched them thoughtfully. She couldn't help but wonder if there was a story with those looks, something going on between the two.

The Prime Minister stopped in his tracks as though he had hit an invisible

wall. "What involvement?"

Fudge grimaced. "He used giants last time, when he wanted to go for the

grand effect," he said. "The Office of Misinformation has been working

around the clock, we've had teams of Obliviators out trying to modify the

memories of all the Muggles who saw what really happened, we've got most

of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures

running around Somerset, but we can't find the giant-it's been a disaster." "You don't say!" said the Prime Minister furiously.

"I won't deny that morale is pretty low at the Ministry," said Fudge.

"What with all that, and then losing Amelia Bones."

"Losing who?"

"Amelia Bones. Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Many of the adults got wide eyes, especially those who worked at the Ministry. They knew Amelia, and, while strict, she was very friendly.

We think He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named may have murdered her in person,

because she was a very gifted witch and-and all the evidence was that she

put up a real fight."

"I keep forgetting how close they were. They worked together all the time, and they were actually at Hogwarts together," Dumbledore said, thinking of when the two of them had been mere students, many years ago.

Fudge cleared his throat and, with an effort, it seemed, stopped spinning

his bowler hat.

"But that murder was in the newspapers," said the Prime Minister,

momentarily diverted from his anger. "Our newspapers. Amelia Bones... it

just said she was a middle-aged woman who lived alone. It was a-a nasty

killing, wasn't it? It's had rather a lot of publicity. The police are baffled, you

see."

Fudge sighed. "Well, of course they are," he said. "Killed in a room that

was locked from the inside, wasn't she? We, on the other hand, know exactly

who did it, not that that gets us any further toward catching him. And then

there was Emmeline Vance, maybe you didn't hear about that one-" "Oh yes I did!" said the Prime Minister. "It happened just around the

corner from here, as a matter of fact. The papers had a field day with it,

'breakdown of law and order in the Prime Minister's backyard-'"

"And as if all that wasn't enough," said Fudge, barely listening to the

Prime Minister, "we've got dementors swarming all over the place, attacking

people left, right, and center..."

Once upon a happier time this sentence would have been unintelligible to

the Prime Minister, but he was wiser now.

"I thought dementors guard the prisoners in Azkaban," he said cautiously.

"They did," said Fudge wearily. "But not anymore. They've deserted the

prison and joined He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I won't pretend that wasn't

a blow."

"But," said the Prime Minister, with a sense of dawning horror, "didn't

you tell me they're the creatures that drain hope and happiness out of

people?"

"That's right. And they're breeding. That's what's causing all this mist."

The Prime Minister sank, weak-kneed, into the nearest chair. The idea of

invisible creatures swooping through the towns and countryside, spreading

despair and hopelessness in his voters, made him feel quite faint. "Now see here, Fudge-you've got to do something! It's your

responsibility as Minister of Magic!"

"My dear Prime Minister, you can't honestly think I'm still Minister of

Magic after all this? I was sacked three days ago! The whole Wizarding

community has been screaming for my resignation for a fortnight. I've never

known them so united in my whole term of office!" said Fudge, with a brave

attempt at a smile.

Harry sighed. "As bad as he is, I can't help but feel sorry for him."

Ron looked at him like he'd grown a second head. "Seriously? After all he's put you through?" he asked.

Harry shrugged and replied simply, "No one deserves that."

The Prime Minister was momentarily lost for words. Despite his

indignation at the position into which he had been placed, he still rather felt

for the shrunken-looking man sitting opposite him.

"I'm very sorry," he said finally. "If there's anything I can do?"

"It's very kind of you, Prime Minister, but there is nothing. I was sent here

tonight to bring you up to date on recent events and to introduce you to my

successor. I rather thought he'd be here by now, but of course, he's very busy

at the moment, with so much going on."

Fudge looked around at the portrait of the ugly little man wearing the long

curly silver wig, who was digging in his ear with the point of a quill.

Catching Fudge's eye, the portrait said, "He'll be here in a moment, he's just

finishing a letter to Dumbledore."

"I wish him luck," said Fudge, sounding bitter for the first time. "I've been

writing to Dumbledore twice a day for the past fortnight, but he won't budge. If he'd just been prepared to persuade the boy, I might still be... Well, maybe

Scrimgeour will have more success."

Fudge subsided into what was clearly an aggrieved silence, but it was

broken almost immediately by the portrait, which suddenly spoke in its

crisp, official voice.

"To the Prime Minister of Muggles. Requesting a meeting. Urgent. Kindly

respond immediately. Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic."

"Yes, yes, fine," said the Prime Minister distractedly, and he barely

flinched as the flames in the grate turned emerald green again, rose up, and

revealed a second spinning wizard in their heart, disgorging him moments

later onto the antique rug.

Fudge got to his feet and, after a moment's hesitation, the Prime Minister

did the same, watching the new arrival straighten up, dust down his long

black robes, and look around.

The Prime Minister's first, foolish thought was that Rufus Scrimgeour

looked rather like an old lion. There were streaks of gray in his mane of

tawny hair and his bushy eyebrows; he had keen yellowish eyes behind a

pair of wire-rimmed spectacles and a certain rangy, loping grace even

though he walked with a slight limp. There was an immediate impression of

shrewdness and toughness; the Prime Minister thought he understood why

the Wizarding community preferred Scrimgeour to Fudge as a leader in

these dangerous times. "How do you do?" said the Prime Minister politely, holding out his hand.

Scrimgeour grasped it briefly, his eyes scanning the room, then pulled out

a wand from under his robes.

"Fudge told you everything?" he asked, striding over to the door and

tapping the keyhole with his wand. The Prime Minister heard the lock click.

"Er-yes," said the Prime Minister. "And if you don't mind, I'd rather that

door remained unlocked."

"I'd rather not be interrupted," said Scrimgeour shortly, "or watched," he

added, pointing his wand at the windows, so that the curtains swept across

them.

"Probably smart," Bill said, finding this reasonable.

"Right, well, I'm a busy man, so let's get down to business. First of all,

we need to discuss your security."

The Prime Minister drew himself up to his fullest height and replied, "I

am perfectly happy with the security I've already got, thank you very-"

"Well, we're not," Scrimgeour cut in. "It'll be a poor lookout for the

Muggles if their Prime Minister gets put under the Imperius Curse. The new

secretary in your outer office-"

"I'm not getting rid of Kingsley Shacklebolt, if that's what you're

suggesting!" said the Prime Minister hotly. "He's highly efficient, gets

through twice the work the rest of them-" "That's because he's a wizard," said Scrimgeour, without a flicker of a

smile. "A highly trained Auror, who has been assigned to you for your

protection."

"Now, wait a moment!" declared the Prime Minister. "You can't just put

your people into my office, I decide who works for me-"

"I thought you were happy with Shacklebolt?" said Scrimgeour coldly.

"I am-that's to say, I was-"

"Then there's no problem, is there?" said Scrimgeour.

"I... well, as long as Shacklebolt's work continues to be... er... excellent,"

said the Prime Minister lamely, but Scrimgeour barely seemed to hear him.

"Now, about Herbert Chorley, your Junior Minister," he continued. "The

one who has been entertaining the public by impersonating a duck."

"What about him?" asked the Prime Minister.

"He has clearly reacted to a poorly performed Imperius Curse," said

Scrimgeour. "It's addled his brains, but he could still be dangerous."

"He's only quacking!"

"Quacking?!" exclaimed George.

Fred continued, "Blimey! I thought he was being figurative when he said he was acting like a duck!"

Several people chuckled, though they knew the situation was serious. The twins were hard to resist.

said the Prime Minister weakly. "Surely a bit of a

rest... Maybe go easy on the drink..." "A team of Healers from St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and

Injuries are examining him as we speak. So far he has attempted to strangle

three of them," said Scrimgeour. "I think it best that we remove him from

Muggle society for a while."

"I... well... He'll be all right, won't he?" said the Prime Minister anxiously.

Scrimgeour merely shrugged, already moving back toward the fireplace.

"Well, that's really all I had to say. I will keep you posted of

developments, Prime Minister-or, at least, I shall probably be too busy to

come personally, in which case I shall send Fudge here. He has consented to

stay on in an advisory capacity."

Fudge attempted to smile, but was unsuccessful; he merely looked as

though he had a toothache. Scrimgeour was already rummaging in his

pocket for the mysterious powder that turned the fire green. The Prime

Minister gazed hopelessly at the pair of them for a moment, then the words

he had fought to suppress all evening burst from him at last.

"But for heaven's sake-you're wizards! You can do magic! Surely you

can sort out-well-anything!"

Scrimgeour turned slowly on the spot and exchanged an incredulous look

with Fudge, who really did manage a smile this time as he said kindly, "The

trouble is, the other side can do magic too, Prime Minister." And with that, the two wizards stepped one after the other into the bright

green fire and vanished.

"End of the chapter," Remus said. "Who's next?"

"I will," said Dumbledore, holding out his hand.


	8. Chapter 8

Dumbledore took the book from Remus and read the title. He smiled. "Perhaps you should read this, Severus," he said, showing it to the other man.

Snape looked at the name and paled. Despite this, he took the book and began. "Chapter Two: Spinner's End."

_Many miles away the chilly mist that had pressed against the Prime _

_Minister's windows drifted over a dirty river that wound between _

_overgrown, rubbish-strewn banks. An immense chimney, relic of a disused _

_mill, reared up, shadowy and ominous. There was no sound apart from the _

_whisper of the black water and no sign of life apart from a scrawny fox that _

_had slunk down the bank to nose hopefully at some old fish-and-chip _

_wrappings in the tall grass. _

_But then, with a very faint pop, a slim, hooded figure appeared out of thin _

_air on the edge of the river. The fox froze, wary eyes fixed upon this strange _

_new phenomenon. The figure seemed to take its bearings for a few moments, _

_then set off with light, quick strides, its long cloak rustling over the grass. _

_With a second and louder pop, another hooded figure materialized. _

_"Wait!" _

_The harsh cry startled the fox, now crouching almost flat in the _

_undergrowth. It leapt from its hiding place and up the bank. There was a _

_flash of green light, a yelp, and the fox fell back to the ground, dead. _

Lily let out a strangled cry. She loved animals, and the fox was her patronus. It offended her greatly to hear of one being killed. Ladon sent her a comforting smile across the room and she blushed. She knew of all of the other possible relationships between her family and friends, and her liking Ladon would just put more potential drama into the mix. She could already imagine the broken friendships if several of the brewing relationships turned out sour. James and Cora. Rose and Scorp. Lysander and Lucy. Teddy and Victiore. Lorcan and Roxanne. Plus, Albus was currently completely engrossed with one of her best friends at school, Kylie, who returned the interest. All of them were either dating, or they were almost definitely going to. Add in her and Ladon and there was some serious drama waiting to happen.

_The second figure turned over the animal with its toe. _

_"Just a fox," said a woman's voice dismissively from under the hood. "I _

_thought perhaps an Auror-Cissy, wait!" But her quarry, who had paused and looked back at the flash of light, was _

_already scrambling up the bank the fox had just fallen down. _

__Draco looked at his feet, knowing who was talking and who she was talking to. Why his mother and aunt were in a story about Potter, he didn't know.

_"Cissy-Narcissa-listen to me-" _

_The second woman caught the first and seized her arm, but the other _

_wrenched it away. _

_"Go back, Bella!" _

_"You must listen to me!" _

_"I've listened already. I've made my decision. Leave me alone!" _

_The woman named Narcissa gained the top of the bank, where a line of _

_old railings separated the river from a narrow, cobbled street. The other _

_woman, Bella, followed at once. Side by side they stood looking across the _

_road at the rows and rows of dilapidated brick houses, their windows dull _

_and blind in the darkness. _

_"He lives here?" asked Bella in a voice of contempt. "Here? In this _

_Muggle dunghill? We must be the first of our kind ever to set foot-" _

_But Narcissa was not listening; she had slipped through a gap in the rusty _

_railings and was already hurrying across the road. "Cissy, waitl" _

_Bella followed, her cloak streaming behind, and saw Narcissa darting _

_through an alley between the houses into a second, almost identical street. _

_Some of the streetlamps were broken; the two women were running between _

_patches of light and deep darkness. The pursuer caught up with her prey just _

_as she turned another corner, this time succeeding in catching hold of her _

_arm and swinging her around so that they faced each other. _

_"Cissy, you must not do this, you can't trust him-" _

_"The Dark Lord trusts him, doesn't he?" _

_"The Dark Lord is... I believe... mistaken," Bella panted,_

Several eyebrows raised. "Huh," Sirius said. "I can't imagine those words leaving my cousin's mouth. She's infatuated. I think even Rodolphus sees it, but he convinces himself he doesn't. I guess it would be a bit harder to follow him if he thought his wife was obsessed," he snorted.

_and her eyes gleamed momentarily under her hood as she looked around to check that _

_they were indeed alone. "In any case, we were told not to speak of the plan _

_to anyone. This is a betrayal of the Dark Lord's-" _

_"Let go, Bella!" snarled Narcissa, and she drew a wand from beneath her _

_cloak, holding it threateningly in the other's face. Bella merely laughed. _

_"Cissy, your own sister? You wouldn't-" _

_"There is nothing I wouldn't do anymore!" Narcissa breathed, a note of _

_hysteria in her voice, and as she brought down the wand like a knife, there _

_was another flash of light. Bella let go of her sister's arm as though burned. "Narcissa!" _

_But Narcissa had rushed ahead. Rubbing her hand, her pursuer followed _

_again, keeping her distance now, as they moved deeper into the deserted _

_labyrinth of brick houses. At last, Narcissa hurried up a street named _

_Spinner's End, over which the towering mill chimney seemed to hover like a _

_giant admonitory finger._

As he read, Snape couldn't imagine why Narcissa was going to him. He considered why she would do such a thing and came to one conclusion: Draco.

_Her footsteps echoed on the cobbles as she passed _

_boarded and broken windows, until she reached the very last house, where a _

_dim light glimmered through the curtains in a downstairs room. _

_She had knocked on the door before Bella, cursing under her breath,_

"She always did have a dirty mouth," Remus said, jokingly, as if none of them had ever said anything of the sort. Sirius snorted loudly.

_had caught up. Together they stood waiting, panting slightly, breathing in the _

_smell of the dirty river that was carried to them on the night breeze. After a _

_few seconds, they heard movement behind the door and it opened a crack. A _

_sliver of a man could be seen looking out at them, a man with long black _

_hair parted in curtains around a sallow face and black eyes. _

_Narcissa threw back her hood. She was so pale that she seemed to shine in _

_the darkness; the long blonde hair streaming down her back gave her the _

_look of a drowned person. _

_"Narcissa!" said the man, opening the door a little wider, so that the light _

_fell upon her and her sister too. "What a pleasant surprise! _

_"Severus," she said in a strained whisper. "May I speak to you? It's _

_urgent." "But of course." _

_He stood back to allow her to pass him into the house. Her still-hooded _

_sister followed without invitation. _

_"Snape," she said curtly as she passed him. _

_"Bellatrix," he replied, his thin mouth curling into a slightly mocking _

_smile as he closed the door with a snap behind them. _

_They had stepped directly into a tiny sitting room, which had the feeling _

_of a dark, padded cell. The walls were completely covered in books, most of _

_them bound in old black or brown leather; a threadbare sofa, an old _

_armchair, and a rickety table stood grouped together in a pool of dim light _

_cast by a candle-filled lamp hung from the ceiling. The place had an air of _

_neglect, as though it was not usually inhabited. _

"Sounds like such a cheery place! Can I move in?" Ron said sarcastically. Thinking back on Rose's sarcastic comments, Hermione instantly knew where her friend's daughter had gotten that from.

_Snape gestured Narcissa to the sofa. She threw off her cloak, cast it aside, _

_and sat down, staring at her white and trembling hands clasped in her lap. _

_Bellatrix lowered her hood more slowly. Dark as her sister was fair, with _

_heavily lidded eyes and a strong jaw, she did not take her gaze from Snape _

_as she moved to stand behind Narcissa. _

_"So, what can I do for you?" Snape asked, settling himself in the armchair _

_opposite the two sisters. _

_"We... we are alone, aren't we?" Narcissa asked quietly. 'Yes, of course. Well, Wormtail's here, but we're not counting vermin, are _

_we?" _

"Never thought I'd agree with you, Snivellus," Sirius muttered.

_He pointed his wand at the wall of books behind him and with a bang, a _

_hidden door flew open, revealing a narrow staircase upon which a small man _

_stood frozen. _

_"As you have clearly realized, Wormtail, we have guests," said Snape _

_lazily. _

_The man crept, hunchbacked, down the last few steps and moved into the _

_room. He had small, watery eyes, a pointed nose, and wore an unpleasant _

_simper. His left hand was caressing his right, which looked as though it was _

_encased in a bright silver glove. _

Several people winced as they recalled how he had gotten the hand, sacrificing it to raise Voldemort back.

_"Narcissa!" he said, in a squeaky voice. "And Bellatrix! How charming-" _

_"Wormtail will get us drinks, if you'd like them," said Snape. "And then _

_he will return to his bedroom." _

_Wormtail winced as though Snape had thrown something at him. _

_"I am not your servant!" he squeaked, avoiding Snape's eye. _

_"Really? I was under the impression that the Dark Lord placed you here to _

_assist me." "To assist, yes-but not to make you drinks and-and clean your house!" _

_"I had no idea, Wormtail, that you were craving more dangerous _

_assignments," said Snape silkily. "This can be easily arranged: I shall speak _

_to the Dark Lord-" _

_"I can speak to him myself if I want to!" _

_"Of course you can," said Snape, sneering. "But in the meantime, bring us _

_drinks. Some of the elf-made wine will do." _

Hermione and Rose both stiffened, while Ron and Hugo both groaned. Ron knew that Hermione would go on a rant about elf rights, just as Hugo know Rose would. Hermione had raised her daughter on the wrongness of their enslavement, and Rose had taken it all to heart.

_Wormtail hesitated for a moment, looking as though he might argue, but _

_then turned and headed through a second hidden door. They heard banging _

_and a clinking of glasses. Within seconds he was back, bearing a dusty bottle _

_and three glasses upon a tray. He dropped these on the rickety table and _

_scurried from their presence, slamming the book-covered door behind him. _

_Snape poured out three glasses of bloodred wine and handed two of them _

_to the sisters. Narcissa murmured a word of thanks, whilst Bellatrix said _

_nothing, but continued to glower at Snape. This did not seem to discompose _

_him; on the contrary, he looked rather amused. _

_"The Dark Lord," he said, raising his glass and draining it. The sisters copied him. Snape refilled their glasses. As Narcissa took her _

_second drink she said in a rush, "Severus, I'm sorry to come here like this, _

_but I had to see you. I think you are the only one who can help me-" _

_Snape held up a hand to stop her, then pointed his wand again at the _

_concealed staircase door. There was a loud bang and a squeal, followed by _

_the sound of Wormtail scurrying back up the stairs. _

_"My apologies," said Snape. "He has lately taken to listening at doors, I _

_don't know what he means by it... You were saying, Narcissa?" _

_She took a great, shuddering breath and started again. _

_"Severus, I know I ought not to be here, I have been told to say nothing to _

_anyone, but-" _

_"Then you ought to hold your tongue!" snarled Bellatrix. "Particularly in _

_present company!" _

_'"Present company'?" repeated Snape sardonically. "And what am I to _

_understand by that, Bellatrix?" _

_"That I don't trust you, Snape, as you very well know!" _

"I do," Dumbledore said with a smile.

"Isn't that why Bellatrix shouldn't?" Remus reasoned. Dumbledore consented.

Neville was uncomfortable. He knew he had stood up to Bellatrix Lestrange in the fifth book, but that was yet to pass, and he was terrified of the thought of the woman who tortured his parents. Cora put a hand on his arm, making him jump.

_Narcissa let out a noise that might have been a dry sob and covered her _

_face with her hands. Snape set his glass down upon the table and sat back again, his hands upon the arms of his chair, smiling into Bellatrix's _

_glowering face. _

_"Narcissa, I think we ought to hear what Bellatrix is bursting to say; it will _

_save tedious interruptions. Well, continue, Bellatrix," said Snape. "Why is it _

_that you do not trust me?" _

_"A hundred reasons!" she said loudly, striding out from behind the sofa to _

_slam her glass upon the table. "Where to start! Where were you when the _

_Dark Lord fell? Why did you never make any attempt to find him when he _

_vanished? What have you been doing all these years that you've lived in _

_Dumbledore's pocket? Why did you stop the Dark Lord procuring the _

_Sorcerer's Stone? Why did you not return at once when the Dark Lord was _

_reborn? Where were you a few weeks ago when we battled to retrieve the _

_prophecy for the Dark Lord? And why, Snape, is Harry Potter still alive, _

_when you have had him at your mercy for five years?" _

_She paused, her chest rising and falling rapidly, the color high in her _

_cheeks. Behind her, Narcissa sat motionless, her face still hidden in her _

_hands. _

_Snape smiled. _

"Snape, please tell me you gave that woman a taste of humility?" Molly said. She hated Bellatrix, and she had since her school days. Several future kids giggled. "What?"

"Nothing," Lily said, still trying to hold in laughter. "Just, we've heard stories about a good slice of humility you give her in their seventh year." She made eye contact with a few others and burst into a fit of laughter again at the thought of their grandmother's future victory. They just couldn't imagine her doing such a thing, especially not while shouting a profanity. The thought of her swearing was comical to them, and they'd have to read it before believing it. Mrs. Weasley looked bewildered. Snape continued.

_"Before I answer you — oh yes, Bellatrix, I am going to answer! You can _

_carry my words back to the others who whisper behind my back, and carry _

_false tales of my treachery to the Dark Lord! Before I answer you, I say, let _

_me ask a question in turn. Do you really think that the Dark Lord has not asked me each and every one of those questions? And do you really think _

_that, had I not been able to give satisfactory answers, I would be sitting here _

_talking to you?" _

_She hesitated. _

_"I know he believes you, but..." _

_"You think he is mistaken? Or that I have somehow hoodwinked him? _

_Fooled the Dark Lord, the greatest wizard, the most accomplished _

_Legilimens the world has ever seen?" _

_Bellatrix said nothing, but looked, for the first time, a little discomfited. _

"Good!" several people shouted at once.

_Snape did not press the point. He picked up his drink again, sipped it, and _

_continued, "You ask where I was when the Dark Lord fell. I was where he _

_had ordered me to be, at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, _

_because he wished me to spy upon Albus Dumbledore. You know, I _

_presume, that it was on the Dark Lord's orders that I took up the post?" _

_She nodded almost imperceptibly and then opened her mouth, but Snape _

_forestalled her. _

_"You ask why I did not attempt to find him when he vanished. For the _

_same reason that Avery, Yaxley, the Carrows, Greyback, Lucius" — he _

_inclined his head slightly to Narcissa — "and many others did not attempt to _

_find him. I believed him finished. I am not proud of it, I was wrong, but there it is... If he had not forgiven we who lost faith at that time, he would _

_have very few followers left." _

_"He'd have me!" said Bellatrix passionately. "I, who spent many years in _

_Azkaban for him!" _

_"Yes, indeed, most admirable," said Snape in a bored voice. "Of course, _

_you weren't a lot of use to him in prison, but the gesture was undoubtedly _

_fine —" _

"I don't trust you," Sirius said, "but I definitely approve the way you talk to my cousin." Snape ignored this.

_"Gesture!" she shrieked; in her fury she looked slightly mad. "While I _

_endured the dementors, you remained at Hogwarts, comfortably playing _

_Dumbledore's pet!" _

_"Not quite," said Snape calmly. "He wouldn't give me the Defense _

_Against the Dark Arts job, you know. Seemed to think it might, ah, bring _

_about a relapse ,.. tempt me into my old ways." _

_"This was your sacrifice for the Dark Lord, not to teach your favorite _

_subject?" she jeered. "Why did you stay there all that time, Snape? Still _

_spying on Dumbledore for a master you believed dead?" _

_"Hardly," said Snape, "although the Dark Lord is pleased that I never _

_deserted my post: I had sixteen years of information on Dumbledore to give _

_him when he returned, a rather more useful welcome-back present than _

_endless reminiscences of how unpleasant Azkaban is..." "But you stayed —" _

_"Yes, Bellatrix, I stayed," said Snape, betraying a hint of impatience for _

_the first time. "I had a comfortable job that I preferred to a stint in Azkaban. _

_They were rounding up the Death Eaters, you know. Dumbledore's _

_protection kept me out of jail; it was most convenient and I used it. I repeat: _

_The Dark Lord does not complain that I stayed, so I do not see why you do. _

_"I think you next wanted to know," he pressed on, ;i little more loudly, for _

_Bellatrix showed every sign of interrupting, "why I stood between the Dark _

_Lord and the Sorcerer's Stone. That is easily answered. He did not know _

_whether he could trust me. He thought, like you, that I had turned from _

_faithful Death Eater to Dumbledore's stooge. He was in a pitiable condition, _

_very weak, sharing the body of a mediocre wizard._

There were mutters of agreement at the mention of Quirrel being mediocre. "Understatement," Fred said.

_He did not dare reveal himself to a former ally if that ally might turn him over to Dumbledore or _

_the Ministry. I deeply regret that he did not trust me. He would have _

_returned to power three years sooner. As it was, I saw only greedy and _

_unworthy Quirrell attempting to steal the stone and, I admit, I did all I could _

_to thwart him." _

_Bellatrix's mouth twisted as though she had taken an unpleasant dose of _

_medicine. _

_"But you didn't return when he came back, you didn't fly back to him at _

_once when you felt the Dark Mark burn —" _

_"Correct. I returned two hours later. I returned on Dumbledore's orders." "On Dumbledore's — ?" she began, in tones of outrage. _

_"Think!" said Snape, impatient again. "Think! By waiting two hours, just _

_two hours, I ensured that I could remain at Hogwarts as a spy! By allowing _

_Dumbledore to think that I was only returning to the Dark Lord's side _

_because I was ordered to, I have been able to pass information on _

_Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix ever since!_

People were beginning to grow uncomfortable. Even Snape was worrying. What if they turned on him, thinking he was untrustworthy? Only Dumbledore seemed perfectly comfortable, settled into an armchair and listening intently.

_Consider, Bellatrix: The Dark Mark had been growing stronger for months. I knew he must be _

_about to return, all the Death Eaters knew! I had plenty of time to think _

_about what I wanted to do, to plan my next move, to escape like Karkaroff, _

_didn't I? _

_"The Dark Lord's initial displeasure at my lateness vanished entirely, I_

_assure you, when I explained that 1 remained faithful, although Dumbledore _

_thought I was his man. Yes, the Dark Lord thought that I had left him _

_forever, but he was wrong." _

_"But what use have you been?" sneered Bellatrix. "What useful _

_information have we had from you?" _

_"My information has been conveyed directly to the Dark Lord," said _

_Snape. "If he chooses not to share it with you —" _

_"He shares everything with me!" said Bellatrix, firing up at once. "He _

_calls me his most loyal, his most faithful —" "Does he?" said Snape, his voice delicately inflected to suggest his _

_disbelief. "Does he still, after the fiasco at the Ministry?" _

"Burn!" James shouted. Chuckles rang through the room. Even Rose couldn't argue that that was not funny.

_"That was not my fault!" said Bellatrix, flushing. "The Dark Lord has, in _

_the past, entrusted me with his most precious — if Lucius hadn't —" _

_"Don't you dare — don't you dare blame my husband!" said Narcissa, in a _

_low and deadly voice, looking up at her sister. _

_"There is no point apportioning blame," said Snape smoothly. "What is _

_done, is done." _

_"But not by you!" said Bellatrix furiously. "No, you were once again _

_absent while the rest of us ran dangers, were you not, Snape?" _

_"My orders were to remain behind," said Snape. "Perhaps you disagree _

_with the Dark Lord, perhaps you think that Dumbledore would not have _

_noticed if I had joined forces with the Death Eaters to fight the Order of the _

_Phoenix? And — forgive me — you speak of dangers... you were facing six _

_teenagers, were you not?" _

"Double burn!" Scorpius said, high-fiving James. Rose actually laughed now, which her cousin found unfair. Why did her boyfriend get a laugh, but he didn't? He was offended, so he did what he did best: He pouted.

_"They were joined, as you very well know, by half of the Order before _

_long!" snarled Bellatrix. "And, while we are on the subject of the Order, you _

_still claim you cannot reveal the whereabouts of their headquarters, don't _

_you?" "I am not the Secret-Keeper; I cannot speak the name of the place. You _

_understand how the enchantment works, I think? The Dark Lord is satisfied _

_with the information I have passed him on the Order. It led, as perhaps you _

_have guessed, to the recent capture and murder of Emmeline Vance, and it _

_certainly helped dispose of Sirius Black, though I give you full credit for _

_finishing him off." _

_He inclined his head and toasted her._

Remus seemed to prepare to shout at Snape, but Sirius put a hand on his shoulder. "I would be thanking her too if Snivellus was in my place. I don't judge him." There were some dry chuckles, but no one was really ready to joke about Sirius' possible death.

_Her expression did nor soften. "You are avoiding my last question, Snape. Harry Potter. You could have _

_killed him at any point in the past five years. You have not done it. Why?" _

_"Have you discussed this matter with the Dark Lord?" asked Snape. _

_"He... lately, we... I am asking you, Snape!" _

_"If I had murdered Harry Potter, the Dark Lord could not have used his _

_blood to regenerate, making him invincible —" _

_"You claim you foresaw his use of the boy!" she jeered. _

_"I do not claim it; I had no idea of his plans; I have already confessed that _

_I thought the Dark Lord dead. I am merely trying to explain why the Dark _

_Lord is not sorry that Potter survived, at least until a year ago..." _

_"But why did you keep him alive?" "Have you not understood me? It was only Dumbledore's protection that _

_was keeping me out of Azkaban! Do you disagree that murdering his _

_favorite student might have turned him against me? But there was more to it _

_than that. I should remind you that when Potter first arrived at Hogwarts _

_there were still many stories circulating about him, rumors that he himself _

_was a great Dark wizard, which was how he had survived the Dark Lord's _

_attack. Indeed, many of the Dark Lords old followers thought Potter might _

_be a standard around which we could all rally once more. I was curious, 1 _

_admit it, and not at all inclined to murder him the moment he set fool in the _

_castle. _

_"Of course, it became apparent to me very quickly that he had no _

_extraordinary talent at all. He has fought his way out of a number of tight _

_corners by a simple combination of sheer luck and more talented friends. He _

_is mediocre to the last degree, though as obnoxious and self-satisfied as was _

_his father before him._

Now Sirius was making sounds of protest with Remus. "How many times are you going to insult James in these books?" he snapped.

Snape shrugged. "How can I know? This is the future."

_I have done my utmost to have him thrown out of _

_Hogwarts, where I believe he scarcely belongs, but kill him, or allow him to _

_be killed in front of me? I would have been a fool to risk it with Dumbledore _

_close at hand." _

_"And through all this we are supposed to believe Dumbledore has never _

_suspected you?" asked Bellatrix. "He has no idea of your true allegiance, he _

_trusts you implicitly still?" _

_"I have played my part well," said Snape. "And you overlook _

_Dumbledore's greatest weakness: He has to believe the best of people. I spun _

_him a tale of deepest remorse when I joined his staff, fresh from my Death Eater days, and he embraced me with open arms — though, as I say, never _

_allowing me nearer the Dark Arts than he could help. Dumbledore has been _

_a great wizard — oh yes, he has," (for Bellatrix had made a scathing noise), _

_"the Dark Lord acknowledges it. I am pleased to say, however, that _

_Dumbledore is growing old. The duel with the Dark Lord last month shook _

_him. He has since sustained a serious injury because his reactions are slower _

_than they once were._

Snape had to work hard to continue reading and ignore the glares that were being sent his way. He caught Dumbledore's eye, angry at him for making him do this, but the old man just smiled and waved him on.

_But through all these years, he has never stopped _

_trusting Severus Snape, and therein lies my great value to the Dark Lord." _

_Bellatrix still looked unhappy, though she appeared unsure how best to _

_attack Snape next. Taking advantage of her silence, Snape turned to her _

_sister. _

_"Now... you came to ask me for help, Narcissa?" _

_Narcissa looked up at him, her face eloquent with despair. _

_"Yes, Severus. I — I think you are the only one who can help me, I have _

_nowhere else to turn. Lucius is in jail and..." _

_She closed her eyes and two large tears seeped from beneath her eyelids. _

_"The Dark Lord has forbidden me to speak of it," Narcissa continued, her _

_eyes still closed. "He wishes none to know of the plan. It is... very secret. _

_But —" "If he has forbidden it, you ought not to speak," said Snape at once. "The _

_Dark Lord's word is law." _

_Narcissa gasped as though he had doused her with cold water. Bellatrix _

_looked satisfied for the first time since she had entered the house. _

_"There!" she said triumphantly to her sister. "Even Snape says so: You _

_were told not to talk, so hold your silence!" _

_But Snape had gotten to his feet and strode to the small window, peered _

_through the curtains at the deserted street, then closed them again with a _

_jerk. He turned around to face Narcissa, frowning. _

_"It so happens that I know of the plan," he said in a low voice. "I am one _

_of the few the Dark Lord has told. Nevertheless, had I not been in on the _

_secret, Narcissa, you would have been guilty of great treachery to the Dark _

_Lord." _

_"I thought you must know about it!" said Narcissa, breathing more freely. _

_"He trusts you so, Severus..." _

_"You know about the plan?" said Bellatrix, her fleeting expression of _

_satisfaction replaced by a look of outrage. "You know?" _

__"I'm sure that was a shocker to dearest Bellatrix, was it not," Dumbledore chuckled lightly.

_"Certainly," said Snape. "But what help do you require, Narcissa? If you _

_are imagining I can persuade the Dark Lord to change his mind, I am afraid _

_there is no hope, none at all." "Severus," she whispered, tears sliding down her pale cheeks. "My son... _

_my only son..." _

Draco stiffened. What about him? Eyes flickered to him, then back to Snape. Scorpius and Ladon exchanged a glance. They knew of their father's history, but not of any specifics. They were clueless.

_"Draco should be proud," said Bellatrix indifferently. "The Dark I ,ord is _

_granting him a great honor. And I will say this for Draco: He isn't shrinking _

_away from his duty, he seems glad of a chance to prove himself, excited at _

_the prospect —" _

_Narcissa began to cry in earnest, gazing beseechingly all the while at _

_Snape. _

_"That's because he is sixteen and has no idea what lies in store! Why, _

_Severus? Why my son? It is too dangerous! This is vengeance lor Lucius's _

_mistake, I know it!" _

_Snape said nothing. He looked away from the sight of her tears as though _

_they were indecent, but he could not pretend not to hear her. _

_"That's why he's chosen Draco, isn't it?" she persisted. "To punish _

_Lucius?" _

_"If Draco succeeds," said Snape, still looking away from her, "he will be _

_honored above all others." _

_"But he won't succeed!" sobbed Narcissa. "How can he, when the Dark _

_Lord himself— ?" Bellatrix gasped;_

"What are they talking about?" Draco exclaimed, now agitated. What was he to do? The mystery and suspense was killing him, not to mention all of the others in the room. It was clearly something difficult and dangerous, but they had no idea what.

_Narcissa seemed to lose her nerve. _

_"I only meant... that nobody has yet succeeded... Severus... please... You _

_are, you have always been, Draco's favorite teacher... You are Lucius's old _

_friend... I beg you... You are the Dark Lord's favorite, his most trusted _

_advisor... Will you speak to him, persuade him — ?" _

_"The Dark Lord will not be persuaded, and I am not stupid enough to _

_attempt it," said Snape flatly. "I cannot pretend that the Dark Lord is not _

_angry with Lucius. Lucius was supposed to be in charge. He got himself _

_captured, along with how many others, and failed to retrieve the prophecy _

_into the bargain. Yes, the Dark Lord is angry, Narcissa, very angry indeed." _

_"Then I am right, he has chosen Draco in revenge!" choked Narcissa. "He _

_does not mean him to succeed, he wants him to be killed trying!" _

Draco's face paled.

_When Snape said nothing, Narcissa seemed to lose what little selfrestraint she still possessed. Standing up, she staggered to Snape and seized _

_the front of his robes. Her face close to his, her tears falling onto his chest, _

_she gasped, "You could do it. You could do it instead of Draco, Severus. _

_You would succeed, of course you would, and he would reward you beyond _

_all of us —" _

_Snape caught hold of her wrists and removed her clutching hands. _

_Looking down into her tearstained face, he said slowly, "He intends me to _

_do it in the end, I think. But he is determined that Draco should try first. You see, in the unlikely event that Draco succeeds, I shall be able to remain at _

_Hogwarts a little longer, fulfilling my useful role as spy." _

_"In other words, it doesn't matter to him if Draco is killed!" _

_"The Dark Lord is very angry," repeated Snape quietly. "He failed to hear _

_the prophecy. You know as well as I do, Narcissa, that he does not forgive _

_easily." _

_She crumpled, falling at his feet, sobbing and moaning on the (loor. _

_"My only son... my only son..." _

_"You should be proud!" said Bellatrix ruthlessly. "If I had sons, I would _

_be glad to give them up to the service of the Dark Lord!" _

"She is such a...a...a..." Mrs. Weasley began, trying to find a word bad enough.

"A what, grandma? We're all big kids here, we can hear **whatever **it is you want to call her," Fred II said, trying to coax her into swearing. The sooner they heard it, the happier they'd be.

_Narcissa gave a little scream of despair and clutched at her long blonde _

_hair. Snape stooped, seized her by the arms, lifted her up, iind steered her _

_back onto the sofa. He then poured her more wine iind forced the glass into _

_her hand. _

_"Narcissa, that's enough. Drink this. Listen to me." _

_She quieted a little; slopping wine down herself, she took a shaky sip. _

_"It might be possible... for me to help Draco." She sat up, her face paper-white, her eyes huge. _

_"Severus — oh, Severus — you would help him? Would you look after _

_him, see he comes to no harm?" _

_"I can try." _

_She flung away her glass; it skidded across the table as she slid off the _

_sofa into a kneeling position at Snape's feet, seized his hand in both of hers, _

_and pressed her lips to it. _

_"If you are there to protect him... Severus, will you swear it? Will you _

_make the Unbreakable Vow?" _

_"The Unbreakable Vow?" _

Eyes around the room widened. The Unbreakable Vow? That was a big deal. A few people, however, blinked, confused.

_Snape's expression was blank, unreadable. Bellatrix, however, let out a _

_cackle of triumphant laughter. _

_"Aren't you listening, Narcissa? Oh, he'll try, I'm sure... The usual empty _

_words, the usual slithering out of action... oh, on the Dark Lord's orders, of _

_course!" _

_Snape did not look at Bellatrix. His black eyes were fixed upon Narcissa's _

_tear-filled blue ones as she continued to clutch his hand. "Certainly, Narcissa, I shall make the Unbreakable Vow," he said quietly. _

_"Perhaps your sister will consent to be our Bonder." _

_Bellatrix's mouth fell open. Snape lowered himself so that he was _

_kneeling opposite Narcissa. Beneath Bellatrix's astonished gaze, they _

_grasped right hands. _

_"You will need your wand, Bellatrix," said Snape coldly. _

_She drew it, still looking astonished. _

_"And you will need to move a little closer," he said. _

_She stepped forward so that she stood over them, and placed the tip of her _

_wand on their linked hands. _

"She's never listened that well to anyone!" Sirius complained.

"I think she was just in to much shock at that point," Snape said reasonably.

_Narcissa spoke. _

_"Will you, Severus, watch over my son, Draco, as he attempts ta fulfill the _

_Dark Lord's wishes?" _

_"I will," said Snape. _

_A thin tongue of brilliant flame issued from the wand and wound its way _

_around their hands like a red-hot wire. _

_"And will you, to the best of your ability, protect him from harm?" "I will," said Snape. _

_A second tongue of flame shot from the wand and interlinked with the _

_first, making a fine, glowing chain. _

_"And, should it prove necessary... if it seems Draco will fail..." whispered _

_Narcissa (Snape's hand twitched within hers, but he did not draw away), _

_"will you carry out the deed that the Dark Lord has ordered Draco to _

_perform?" _

_There was a moment's silence. Bellatrix watched, her wand upon their _

_clasped hands, her eyes wide. _

_"I will," said Snape. _

_Bellatrix's astounded face glowed red in the blaze of a third unique flame, _

_which shot from the wand, twisted with the others, and bound itself thickly _

_around their clasped hands, like a fiery snake. _

__"That is the end," Snape said, holding out the book.


	9. Chapter 9

Dumbledore took the book from Snape, seeming not to notice the glares being sent his colleagues way.

"Chapter Three," he began cheerily. "Will and Won't."

_Harry Potter was snoring loudly._

Several people snorted. Harry glared at Ron, who hadn't even attempted to cover it up. "You're one to talk. Honestly, I can barely sleep in the same room as you most nights." His friend stopped immediately.

_He had been sitting in a chair beside his bedroom window for _

_the best part of four hours, staring out at the darkening street, and had finally fallen asleep with one _

_side of his face pressed against the cold windowpane, his glasses askew and his mouth wide open._

More snorting came from around the room. Harry blushed scarlet.

_The misty fog his breath had left on the window sparkled in the orange glare of the streetlamp _

_outside, and the artificial light drained his face of all color, so that he looked ghostly beneath his _

_shock of untidy black hair. _

_The room was strewn with various possessions and a good smattering of rubbish. Owl feathers, _

_apple cores, and sweet wrappers littered the floor,_

Several girls wrinkled their noses. Apple cores? Just left lying? Disgusting.

_a number of spellbooks lay higgledy-piggledy among the tangled robes on his bed, and a mess of newspapers sat in a puddle of light on his desk. _

"Do you believe in cleaning your room, Harry?" Hermione asked. He just shrugged.

_The headline of one blared: _

_HARRY POTTER: THE CHOSEN ONE? _

_Rumors continue to fly about the mysterious recent disturbance at the Ministry of Magic, during _

_which He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was sighted once more. _

_"We're not allowed to talk about it, don't ask me anything" said one agitated Obliviator, who refused _

_to give his name as he left the Ministry last night. _

_Nevertheless, highly placed sources within the Ministry have confirmed that the disturbance centered _

_on the fabled Hall of Prophecy. _

"They shouldn't have given anything away!" Tonks protested. Arthur nodded.

_Though Ministry spokeswizards have hitherto refused even to confirm the existence of such a place, a _

_growing number of the Wizarding community believe that the Death Eaters now serving sentences in _

_Azkaban for trespass and attempted theft were attempting to steal a prophecy. The nature of that prophecy _

_is unknown, although speculation is rife that it concerns Harry Potter, the only person ever known to have _

_survived the Killing Curse, and who is also known to have been at the Ministry on the night in question. _

_Some are going so far as to call Potter "the Chosen One," believing that the prophecy names him as the _

_only one who will be able to rid us of He-Who-Must-No t-Be-Named. _

_The current whereabouts of the prophecy, if it exists, are unknown, although {ctd. page2, column 5) _

_A second newspaper lay beside die first. This one bore die headline: _

_SCRIMGEOUR SUCCEEDS FUDGE _

"I can't believe that man got minister! He's so violent!" Tonks shuddered.

"Well, they're at war. Wouldn't they need a strong leader?" Remus reasoned.

Tonks nodded. "Makes sense."

_Most of this front page was taken up with a large black-and-white picture of a man with a lionlike _

_mane of thick hair and a rather ravaged face. The picture was moving — the man was waving at the _

_ceiling. _

_Rufus Scrimgeour, previously Head of the Auror office in the Department of Magical Law _

_Enforcement, has succeeded Cornelius Fudge as Minister of Magic. The appointment has largely been _

_greeted with enthusiasm by the Wizarding community, though rumors of a rift between the new Minister _

_and Albus Dumbledore, newly reinstated Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, surfaced within hours of _

_Scrimgeour taking office. _

"About what?" Cho asked.

Dumbledore shrugged. "I do not know, Miss Chang. Remember, this has not happened yet."

_Scrimgeours representatives admitted that he had met with Dumbledore at once upon taking possession _

_of the top job, but refused to comment on the topics under discussion. Albus Dumbledore is known to (ctd. page 3, column 2) _

_To the left of this paper sat another, which had been folded so that a story bearing the title _

_ministry guarantees students' safety was visible. _

_Newly appointed Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, spoke today of the tough new measures taken _

_by his Ministry to ensure the safety of students returning to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry _

_this autumn. _

"Oh, what did he do to the school?" McGonagal groaned.

Ron looked up. "Can't be worse than the dementors." Several people nodded in agreement.

_"For obvious reasons, the Ministry will not be going into detail about its stringent new security plans," _

_said the Minister, although an insider confirmed that measures include defensive spells and charms, a _

_complex array of countercurses, and a small task force of Aurors dedicated solely to the protection of _

_Hogwarts School. _

"That isn't too horrible," Teddy said.

_Most seem reassured by the new Minister's tough stand on student safety. Said Mrs. Augusta _

_Longbottom, "My grandson, Neville — a good friend of Harry Potter's, incidentally, who fought the _

_Death Eaters alongside him at the Ministry in June and — _

_But the rest of this story was obscured by the large birdcage, standing on top of it. Inside it was a _

_magnificent snowy owl. Her amber eyes surveyed the room imperiously, her head swiveling _

_occasionally to gaze at her snoring master. Once or twice she clicked her beak impatiently, but Harry _

_was too deeply asleep to hear her. _

_A large trunk stood in the very middle of the room. Its lid was open; it looked expectant; yet it _

_was almost empty but for a residue of old underwear,_

"TMI!" James shouted, covering his ears. Several people looked at him, confused. He sighed. "Means 'too much information.'"

_sweets, empty ink bottles, and broken quills _

_that coated the very bottom. Nearby, on the floor, lay a purple leaflet emblazoned with the words: _

_— — ISSUED ON BEHALF OF — — _

_The Ministry of Magic _

_PROTECTING YOUR HOME AND FAMILY AGAINST DARK FORCES _

_The Wizarding community is currently under threat from an organization calling itself the Death _

_Eaters. Observing the following simple security guidelines will help protect you, your family, and your _

_home from attack. 1. You are advised not to leave the house alone. _

"People would probably be too scared to," Mrs. Weasley said.

_2. Particular care should be taken during the hours of darkness. Wherever possible, _

_arrange to complete journeys before night has fallen. _

_3. Review the security arrangements around your house, making sure that all family _

_members are aware of emergency measures such as Shield and Disillusionment Charms, _

_and, in the case of underage family members, Side-Along-Apparition. _

_4. Agree on security questions with close friends and family so as to detect Death Eaters masquerading _

_as others by use of the Polyjuice Potion (see page 2). _

_5. Should you feel that a family member, colleague, friend, or neighbor is acting in a strange manner, _

_contact the Magical Law Enforcement Squad at once. They may have been put under the Imperius _

_Curse (see page 4). _

_6. Should the Dark Mark appear over any dwelling place or other building, DO NOT ENTER,_

"Never would've guessed," Albus grumbled.

_but contact the Auror office immediately. _

_7. Unconfirmed sightings suggest that the Death Eaters may now be using Inferi (see page 10). Any _

_sighting of an Inferius, or encounter with same, should be reported to the Ministry IMMEDIATELY. _

_Harry grunted in his sleep and his face slid down the window an inch or so, making his glasses _

_still more lopsided, but he did not wake up._

"You're a really heavy sleeper," Roxanne pointed out. He just shrugged.

_An alarm clock, repaired by Harry several years ago, _

_ticked loudly on the sill, showing one minute to eleven. Beside it, held in place by Harry's relaxed _

_hand, was a piece of parchment covered in thin, slanting writing. Harry had read this letter so often _

_since its arrival three days ago that although it had been delivered in a tightly furled scroll, it now lay quite flat. _

_Dear Harry, _

_If it is convenient to you, I shall call at number four, Privet Drive this coming Friday at eleven p.m. _

_to escort you to the Burrow, where you have been invited to spend the remainder of your school holidays. _

_If you are agreeable, I should also be glad of your assistance in a matter to which I hope to attend on _

_the way to the Burrow. I shall explain this more fully when I see you. _

_Kindly send your answer by return of this owl. Hoping to see you this Friday, _

_I am yours most sincerely, _

_Albus Dumbledore _

_Though he already knew it by heart, Harry had been stealing glances at this missive every few _

_minutes since seven o'clock that evening, when he had first taken up his position beside his bedroom _

_window, which had a reasonable view of both ends of Privet Drive. He knew it was pointless to keep rereading Dumbledore's words; Harry had sent back his "yes" with the delivering owl, as requested, _

_and all he could do now was wait: Either Dumbledore was going to come, or he was not. _

"Why wouldn't he?" Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged. "I dunno! It's in the future. Besides, you know I'm skeptical about everything."

_But Harry had not packed. It just seemed too good to be true that he was going to be rescued _

_from the Dursleys after a mere fortnight of their company. He could not shrug off the feeling that _

_something was going to go wrong — his reply to Dumbledore's letter might have gone astray; _

_Dumbledore could be prevented from collecting him; the letter might turn out not to be from _

_Dumbledore at all, but a trick or joke or trap._

__"That's actually really good thinking," Tonks said, nodding.

_Harry had not been able to face packing and then _

_being let down and having to unpack again. The only gesture he had made to the possibility of a _

_journey was to shut his snowy owl, Hedwig, safely in her cage. _

"Bet she loved that," Ron muttered sarcastically. Harry grinned. His owl was too proud.

_The minute hand on the alarm clock reached the number twelve and, at that precise moment, _

_the street-lamp outside the window went out. _

_Harry awoke as though the sudden darkness were an alarm. Hastily straightening his glasses and _

_unsticking his cheek from the glass, he pressed his nose against the window instead and squinted _

_down at the pavement. A tall figure in a long, billowing cloak was walking up the garden path. _

_Harry jumped up as though he had received an electric shock, knocked over his chair, and _

_started snatching anything and everything within reach from the floor and throwing it into the _

_trunk. Then as he lobbed a set of robes, two spellbooks, and a packet of clasps across the room, the _

_doorbell rang. Downstairs in the living room his Uncle Vernon shouted, "Who the blazes is calling _

_at this time of night?" _

_Harry froze with a brass telescope in one hand and a pair of trainers in the other. He had _

_completely forgotten to warn the Dursleys that Dumbledore might be coming._

Fred shook his head. "Bad thinking, Harry," he said.

George mimicked his brother. "You are hopeless." Harry just rolled his eyes.

_Feeling both panicky _

_mid close to laughter, he clambered over the trunk and wrenched open his bedroom door in time to _

_hear a deep voice say, "Good evening. You must be Mr. Dursley. I daresay Harry has told you I _

_would be coming for him?" _

_Harry ran down the stairs two at a time, coming to an abrupt halt several steps from the bottom, _

_as long experience had taught him to remain out of arm's reach of his uncle whenever possible. _

"Meaning?!" asked Sirius worriedly.

Harry shook his head. "Don't worry. I wasn't physically abused at the Dursley's. There were no beatings beyond the way a parent would punish their child."

"You never beat us," James said.

"Then again," Albus cut in, "Mum would'nt let him." James nodded in agreement.

"True."

Harry was very curious to discover who his future wife was.

_There in the doorway stood a tall, thin man with waist-length silver hair and beard. Half-moon _

_spectacles were perched on his crooked nose, and he was wearing a long black traveling cloak and a _

_pointed hat. Vernon Dursley, whose mustache was quite as bushy as Dumbledore's, though black, _

_and who was wearing a puce dressing gown, was staring at the visitor as though he could not believe _

_his tiny eyes. "Judging by your look of stunned disbelief, Harry did not warn you that I was coming," said _

_Dumbledore pleasantly. "However, let us assume that you have invited me warmly into your house. _

Molly shook her head. "I'm sorry, Albus, but I would have chucked you out right then." Dumbledore just smiled warmly.

_It is unwise to linger overlong on doorsteps in these troubled times." _

_He stepped smartly over the threshold and closed the front door behind him. _

_"It is a long time since my last visit," said Dumbledore, peering down his crooked nose at Uncle _

_Vernon. "I must say, your agapanthus are flourishing." _

"Don't even bother with the small talk, it will go right through them," Harry said, shaking his head.

_Vernon Dursley said nothing at all. Harry did not doubt that speech would return to him, and _

_soon — the vein pulsing in his uncles temple was reaching danger point — but something about _

_Dumbledore seemed to have robbed him temporarily of breath. It might have been the blatant _

_wizardishness of his appearance, but it might, too, have been that even Uncle Vernon could sense _

_that here was a man whom it would be very difficult to bully. _

"That'_s _right!" several people shouted. Dumbledore just smiled.

_"Ah, good evening Harry," said Dumbledore, looking up at him through his half-moon glasses _

_with a most satisfied expression. "Excellent, excellent." _

_These words seemed to rouse Uncle Vernon. It was clear that as far as he was concerned, any _

_man who could look at Harry and say "excellent" was a man with whom he could never see eye to _

_eye. _

James snorted. "Well, he wouldn't get along with most people, now would he? We hear someone call dad excellent almost on a daily basis."

Harry blushed and smiled slightly.

_"I don't mean to be rude —" he began, in a tone that threatened rudeness in every syllable. _

_"— yet, sadly, accidental rudeness occurs alarmingly often," Dumbledore finished the sentence _

_gravely. "Best to say nothing at all, my dear man. Ah, and this must be Petunia." _

_The kitchen door had opened, and there stood Harry's aunt, wearing rubber gloves and a _

_housecoat over her nightdress, clearly halfway through her usual pre-bedtime wipe-down of all the _

_kitchen surfaces._

Louis began a bout of fake coughs, smuggling a muttered "Neatfreak" into the mix.

_Her rather horsey face registered nothing but shock. _

_"Albus Dumbledore," said Dumbledore, when Uncle Vernon failed to effect an introduction. _

_"We have corresponded, of course." Harry thought this an odd way of reminding Aunt Petunia that _

_he had once sent her an exploding letter, but Aunt Petunia did not challenge the term. "And this _

_must be your son, Dudley?" _

_Dudley had that moment peered round the living room door, his large, blond head rising out of _

_the stripy collar of his pajamas looked oddly disembodied, his mouth gaping in astonishment and _

_fear. Dumbledore waited a moment or two, apparently to see whether any of the Dursleys were _

_going to say anything, but as the silence stretched on he smiled. _

_"Shall we assume that you have invited me into your sitting room?" Dudley scrambled out of the way as Dumbledore passed him._

"Wuss," the twins muttered.

_Harry, still clutching the telescope _

_and trainers, jumped the last few stairs and followed Dumbledore, who had settled himself in the _

_armchair nearest the fire and was taking in the surroundings with an expression of benign interest. _

_He looked quite extraordinarily out of place. _

_"Aren't — aren't we leaving, sir?" Harry asked anxiously. _

_"Yes, indeed we are, but there are a few matters we need to discuss first," said Dumbledore. "And _

_I would prefer not to do so in the open. We shall trespass upon your aunt and uncle's hospitality _

_only a little longer." _

_"You will, will you?" _

_Vernon Dursley had entered the room, Petunia at his shoulder, and Dudley skulking behind _

_them both. _

"Oh, this outta be good," Sirius said.

_"Yes," said Dumbledore simply, "I shall." _

_He drew his wand so rapidly that Harry barely saw it; with a casual flick, the sofa zoomed _

_forward and knocked the knees out from under all three of the Dursleys so that they collapsed upon _

_it in a heap._

Several people giggled at the thought.

_Another flick of the wand and the sofa zoomed back to its original position. _

_"We may as well be comfortable," said Dumbledore pleasantly. _

_As he replaced his wand in his pocket, Harry saw that his hand was blackened and shriveled; it _

_looked as though his flesh had been burned away. _

"What happened?" Louis asked curiously. Dumbledore merely shrugged.

_"Sir — what happened to your —?" _

_"Later, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Please sit down." _

_Harry took the remaining armchair, choosing not to look at the Dursleys, who seemed stunned _

_into silence. _

_"I would assume that you were going to offer me refreshment," Dumbledore said to Uncle _

_Vernon, "but the evidence so far suggests that that would be optimistic to the point of foolishness." _

_A third twitch of the wand, and a dusty bottle and five glasses appeared in midair. The bottle _

_tipped and poured a generous measure of honey-colored liquid into each of the glasses, which then _

_floated to each person in the room. _

_"Madam Rosmertas finest oak-matured mead," said Dumbledore, raising his glass to Harry, who _

_caught hold of his own and sipped. He had never tasted anything like it before, but enjoyed it _

_immensely. The Dursleys, after quick, scared looks at one another, tried to ignore their glasses _

_completely, a difficult feat, as they were nudging them gently on the sides of their heads._

"Nice," Ginny said, grinning.

_Harry could not suppress a suspicion that Dumbledore was rather enjoying himself. "Well, Harry," said Dumbledore, turning toward him, "a difficulty has arisen which I hope you _

_will be able to solve for us. By us, I mean the Order of the Phoenix. But first of all I must tell you _

_that Sirius's will was discovered a week ago and that he left you everything he owned." _

_Over on the sofa, Uncle Vernons head turned,_

"Greedy pig," Remus muttered.

_but Harry did not look at him, nor could he think of anything to say except, "Oh. Right." _

_"This is, in the main, fairly straightforward," Dumbledore went on. "You add a reasonable _

_amount of gold to your account at gringotts, and you inherit all of Sirius's personal possessions. The slightly problematic part of the legacy —" _

_"His godfather's dead?" said Uncle Vernon loudly from the sofa. Dumbledore and Harry both _

_turned to look at him. The glass of mead was now knocking quite insistently on the side of Vernons _

_head; he attempted to beat it away. "He's dead? His godfather?" _

_"Yes," said Dumbledore. He did not ask Harry why he had not confided in the Dursleys. "Our _

_problem," he continued to Harry, as if there had been no interruption, "is that Sirius also left you _

_number twelve, Grimmauld Place." _

_"He's been left a house?" said Uncle Vernon greedily, his small eyes narrowing, but nobody _

_answered him. _

"And it goes to Harry, not that son of a b-" Sirius began to shout, but stopped as Molly glared at him, gesturing to some of the younger kids. Grumbling, he crossed his arms and sat back.

_"You can keep using it as headquarters," said Harry. "I don't care. You can have it, I don't really _

_want it." Harry never wanted to set foot in number twelve, Grimmauld Place again if he could help _

_it. He thought he would be haunted forever by the memory of Sirius prowling its dark musty rooms _

_alone, imprisoned within the place he had wanted so desperately to leave. _

__Sirius winced.

_"That is generous," said Dumbledore. "We have, however, vacated the building temporarily." _

_"Why?" _

_"Well," said Dumbledore, ignoring the mutterings of Uncle Vernon, who was now being rapped _

_smartly over the head by the persistent glass of mead, "Black family tradition decreed that the house _

_was handed down the direct line, to the next male with the name of 'Black.' Sirius was the very last _

_of the line as his younger brother, Regulus, predeceased him and both were childless. While his will _

_makes it perfectly plain that he wants you to have the house, it is nevertheless possible that some _

_spell or enchantment has been set upon the place to ensure that it cannot be owned by anyone other _

_than a pureblood." _

"Nah, mother never thought that anyone in our family would pass it to an outsider," Sirius said. "Whoever it's given to owns it."

_A vivid image of the shrieking, spitting portrait of Sirius's mother that hung in the hall of _

_number twelve, Grimmauld Place flashed into Harry's mind. "I bet there has," he said. "Quite," said Dumbledore. "And if such an enchantment exists, then the ownership of the house _

_is most likely to pass to the eldest of Sirius's living relatives, which would mean his cousin, Bellatrix _

_Lestrange." _

_Without realizing what he was doing, Harry sprang to his feet; the telescope and trainers in his _

_lap rolled across the floor. Bellatrix Lestrange, Sirius's killer, inherit his house? _

_"No," he said. _

_"Well, obviously we would prefer that she didn't get it either," said Dumbledore calmly. "The _

_situation is fraught with complications. We do not know whether the enchantments we ourselves _

_have placed upon it, for example, making it Unplottable, will hold now that ownership has passed _

_from Sirius's hands. It might be that Bellatrix will arrive on the doorstep at any moment. Naturally _

_we had to move out until such time as we have clarified the position." _

_"But how are you going to find out if I'm allowed to own it?" _

_"Fortunately," said Dumbledore, "there is a simple test." _

"Vat vould that be?" Krum asked. People jumped slightly, having forgotten that he was there.

Dumbledore smiled. "What is the one thing in that house that can only belong to the owner or owners?"

Hermione's eyes brightened as she came to a realization, along with Rose, Lupin, and Victoire.

_He placed his empty glass on a small table beside his chair, but before he could do anything else, _

_Uncle Vernon shouted, "Will you get these ruddy things off us?" _

_Harry looked around; all three of the Dursleys were cowering with their arms over their heads as _

_their glasses bounced up and down on their skulls, their contents flying everywhere. _

__Laughs rang through the room at the thought of the Dursley's warding away persistent glasses of mead.

_"Oh, I'm so sorry," said Dumbledore politely, and he raised his wand again. All three glasses _

_vanished. "But it would have been better manners to drink it, you know." _

Harry snorted. "Since when do the Dursley's have good manners?"

_It looked as though Uncle Vernon was bursting with any number of unpleasant retorts, but he _

_merely shrank back into the cushions with Aunt Petunia and Dudley and said nothing, keeping his _

_small piggy eyes on Dumbledore's wand. _

_"You see," Dumbledore said, turning back to Harry and again speaking as though Uncle Vernon _

_had not uttered, "if you have indeed inherited the house, you have also inherited —" _

_He flicked his wand for a fifth time. There was a loud crack, and a house-elf appeared, with a _

_snout for a nose, giant bat's ears, and enormous bloodshot eyes, crouching on the Dursleys' shag _

_carpet and covered in grimy rags._

"Kreacher!" several people shouted.

_Aunt Petunia let out a hair-raising shriek; nothing this filthy had _

_entered her house in living memory._

Louis pouted slightly. "Kreacher isn't filthy," he muttered. Dominique nudged him, silently reminding him that this was before.

_Dudley drew his large, bare, pink feet off the floor and sat with _

_them raised almost above his head, as though he thought the creature might run up his pajama _

_trousers, and Uncle Vernon bellowed, _

_"What the hell is that?" _

_"Kreacher," finished Dumbledore. "Kreacher won't, Kreacher won't, Kreacher won't!" croaked the house-elf, quite as loudly as _

_Uncle Vernon, stamping his long, gnarled feet and pulling his ears. "Kreacher belongs to Miss _

_Bellatrix, oh yes, Kreacher belongs to the Blacks, Kreacher wants his new mistress, Kreacher won't go _

_to the Potter brat, Kreacher won't, won't, won't —" _

_"As you can see, Harry," said Dumbledore loudly, over Kreacher's continued croaks of "wont, _

_won't, won't," "Kreacher is showing a certain reluctance to pass into your ownership." _

_"I don't care," said Harry again, looking with disgust at the writhing, stamping house-elf. "I _

_don't want him." _

Albus looked confused. Kreacher was their house-elf still, and his father was perfectly kind to him. Then he remembered what the elf had done, spilling secrets about the Order that got Sirius killed.

_"Won't, won't, won't, won't —" _

_"You would prefer him to pass into the ownership of Bellatrix Lestrange? Bearing in mind that _

_he has lived at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix for the past year?" _

_"Won't, won't, won't, won't —" _

_Harry stared at Dumbledore. He knew that Kreacher could not be permitted to go and live with _

_Bellatrix Lestrange, but the idea of owning him, of having responsibility for the creature that had _

_betrayed Sirius, was repugnant. _

_"Give him an order," said Dumbledore. "If he has passed into your ownership, he will have to _

_obey. If not, then we shall have to think of some other means of keeping him from his rightful _

_mistress." _

_"Won't, won't, won't, WON'T!" _

_Kreacher's voice had risen to a scream. Harry could think of nothing to say, except, "Kreacher, _

_shut up!" _

_It looked for a moment as though Kreacher was going to choke. He grabbed his throat, his _

_mouth still working furiously, his eyes bulging. After a few seconds of frantic gulping, he threw _

_himself face forward onto the carpet (Aunt Petunia whimpered) and beat the floor with his hands _

_and feet, giving himself over to a violent, but entirely silent, tantrum. _

_"Well, that simplifies matters," said Dumbledore cheerfully. "It means that Sirius knew what he _

_was doing. You are the rightful owner of number twelve, Grimmauld Place and of Kreacher." _

_"Do I — do I have to keep him with me?" Harry asked, aghast, us Kreacher thrashed around at _

_his feet. _

_"Not if you don't want to," said Dumbledore. "If I might make a suggestion, you could send _

_him to Hogwarts to work in the kitchen there. In that way, the other house-elves could keep an eye _

_on him." "Yeah," said Harry in relief, "yeah, I'll do that. Er — Kreacher — I want you to go to Hogwarts _

_and work in the kitchens there with the other house-elves." _

"That's a good idea. Then the others could tell Dumbledore if Kreacher ran off to the Death Eaters," Rose reasoned.

_Kreacher, who was now lying flat on his back with his arms and legs in the air, gave Harry one _

_upside-down look of deepest loathing and, with another loud crack, vanished. _

_"Good," said Dumbledore. "There is also the matter of the hippogriff, Buckbeak. Hagrid has _

_been looking after him since Sirius died, but Buckbeak is yours now, so if you would prefer to make _

_different arrangements —" _

_"No," said Harry at once, "he can stay with Hagrid. I think Buckbeak would prefer that." _

_"Hagrid will be delighted," said Dumbledore, smiling. "He was thrilled to see Buckbeak again. _

_Incidentally, we have decided, in the interests of Buckbeak's safety, to rechristen him 'Witherwings' _

_for the time being, though I doubt that the Ministry would ever guess he is the hippogriff they once _

_sentenced to death. Now, Harry, is your trunk packed?" _

_"Erm…" _

_"Doubtful that I would turn up?" Dumbledore suggested shrewdly. _

__"You don't miss a trick," Arthur laughed.

_"I'll just go and — er — finish off," said Harry hastily, hurrying to pick up his fallen telescope _

_and trainers. _

_It took him a little over ten minutes to track down everything he needed; at last he had managed _

_to extract his Invisibility Cloak from under the bed, screwed the top back on his jar of color-change _

_ink, and forced the lid of his trunk shut on his cauldron. Then, heaving his trunk in one hand and _

_holding Hedwig's cage in the other, he made his way back downstairs, _

_He was disappointed to discover that Dumbledore was not waiting in the hall, which meant that _

_he had to return to the living room. _

"Ugh. You have to see the Dirtleys again," Fred II muttered.

"Who?" his sister asked.

He rolled his eyes. "Dirtleys. You know, and insult to the name Dursley."

Fred grinned at George. "We trained him well."

Fred II shuffled nervously when he said "we."

_Nobody was talking. Dumbledore was humming quietly, apparently quite at his ease, but the _

_atmosphere was thicker than cold custard, and Harry did not dare look at the Dursleys as he said, _

_"Professor — I'm ready now." _

_"Good," said Dumbledore. "Just one last thing, then." And he turned to speak to the Dursleys _

_once more. _

_"As you will no doubt be aware, Harry comes of age in a year's time —" _

_"No," said Aunt Petunia, speaking for the first time since Dumbledore's arrival. _

"Huh?" several people said, not knowing that the muggle age was different.

_"I'm sorry?" said Dumbledore politely. _

_"No, he doesn't. He's a month younger than Dudley, and Dudders doesn't turn eighteen until _

_the year after next."_

"Muggles come of age at eighteen? Ugh, I couldn't imagine having to wait an extra year," Ron said.

_"Ah," said Dumbledore pleasantly, "but in the Wizarding world, we come of age at seventeen." _

_Uncle Vernon muttered, "Preposterous," but Dumbledore ignored him, _

_"Now, as you already know, the wizard called Lord Voldemort has returned to this country. The _

_Wizarding community is currently in a state of open warfare. Harry, whom Lord Voldemort has _

_already attempted to kill on a number of occasions, is in even greater danger now than the day when _

_I left him upon your doorstep fifteen years ago, with a letter explaining about his parents' murder _

_and expressing the hope that you would care for him as though he were your own." _

_Dumbledore paused, and although his voice remained light and calm, and he gave no obvious _

_sign of anger, Harry felt a kind of chill emanating from him and noticed that the Dursleys drew very _

_slightly closer together. _

_"You did not do as I asked. You have never treated Harry as a son. He has known nothing but _

_neglect and often cruelty at your hands. The best that can be said is that he has at least escaped the _

_appalling damage you have inflicted upon the unfortunate boy sitting between you." _

Several people snorted. Even when Dumbledore was insulting someone he made it sound proper.

_Both Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon looked around instinctively, as though expecting to see _

_someone other than Dudley squeezed between them. _

_"Us — mistreat Dudders? What d'you —?" began Uncle Vernon furiously, but Dumbledore _

_raised his finger for silence, a silence which fell as though he had struck Uncle Vernon dumb. _

_"The magic I evoked fifteen years ago means that Harry has powerful protection while he can _

_still call this house 'home.' However miserable he has been here, however unwelcome, however badly _

_treated, you have at least, grudgingly, allowed him houseroom. This magic will cease to operate the _

_moment that Harry turns seventeen; in other words, at the moment he becomes a man. I ask only _

_this: that you allow Harry to return, once more, to this house, before his seventeenth birthday, _

_which will ensure that the protection continues until that time." _

__Harry groaned. He didn't want to have to see the Dursleys again. Several people gave him sympathetic looks.

_None of the Dursleys said anything. Dudley was frowning slightly, as though he was still trying _

_to work out when he had ever been mistreated. _

"Probably the hardest he'd ever worked to figure anything out," Rose grumbled. Several people laughed.

_Uncle Vernon looked as though he had something stuck in his throat; Aunt Petunia, however, _

_was oddly flushed. _

_"Well, Harry…time for us to be off," said Dumbledore at last, standing up and straightening his _

_long black cloak. "Until we meet again," he said to the Dursleys, who looked as though that moment _

_could wait forever as far as they were concerned, and after doffing his hat, he swept from the room. _

_"Bye," said Harry hastily to the Dursleys, and followed Dumbledore, who paused beside Harry's _

_trunk, upon which Hedwig's cage was perched. "We do not want to be encumbered by these just now," he said, pulling out his wand again. "I _

_shall send them to the Burrow to await us there. However, I would like you to bring your Invisibility _

_Cloak…just in case." _

"In case of what?" Roxanne asked.

"Most likely in case of an attack," Dumbledore reasoned.

_Harry extracted his cloak from his trunk with some difficulty, trying not to show Dumbledore _

_the mess within. When he had stuffed it into an inside pocket of his jacket, Dumbledore waved his _

_wand and the trunk, cage, and Hedwig vanished. Dumbledore then waved his wand again, and the _

_front door opened onto cool, misty darkness. _

_"And now, Harry, let us step out into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure." _

__"I'll read next!"


End file.
